


The Soldier's Bride

by QuotethTheRaveneth



Series: Taming the Wolf [2]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Absolution Spoilers, Alternate Universe, Biblical References, Choking, Established Relationship, F/M, I just want all my babes to be happy ok??, Marriage, Oral Sex, POV Grace, POV Jacob, POV Jerome, POV John, POV Staci, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smut, Suicidal Ideation, Vaginal Fingering, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-05-14 09:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 70,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14767071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuotethTheRaveneth/pseuds/QuotethTheRaveneth
Summary: "I will never give up on our family."How did it come to this? He wonders, taking a draw from his cigarette. Was it when he met Mercy or when he married her? Was it when he took her to John’s ranch to meet his family?Or had this all been decided back on that day in June, when Old Mad Seed had beaten Joseph with his belt because of a fucking Spiderman comic?





	1. Jacob Seed I

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's almost 6 in the morning, but my anxiety won't let me rest til I've posted this, so here it is!
> 
> This is a fic that goes along with my oneshot, My One and Only You. Feel free to leave me your constructive criticisms as that is the only way I can grow as a writer. Seriously, even if you totally hate it, I don't mind if you tell me so. My tumblr is mysuiciderecovery if you feel more comfortable messaging me on there.
> 
> Anyways, I hope that you enjoy and please kudos, comment, and bookmark the story if you would like more.

“ _No matter what happens, please remember that I love you. I will never give up on our family._ ”

**…**

**March 28, 2018 – 8:36 PM**

“My children, my brothers, and sisters, tonight’s sermon will be the last I give to you before the Collapse begins,” Joseph says, his voice echoing through the church. Everything is silent, as it often is when he speaks as if the very world itself is holding its breath for what he’s about to say. “I ask you this, my children: Why did our Lord put us on this Earth? You see, God made us so that we could love Him and love each other. Love is not only something that we feel but something we do. It is a choice that we make, loving another person. Jesus, during the night of the Last Supper, kneeled before his disciples and washed their feet.”

Joseph waves an arm, slowly, over his congregation, palm open as though he were blessing them. “ _When Jesus had washed their feet and put on His robe, He reclined again and said to them, ‘Do you know what I have done for you? You call Me Teacher and Lord. This is well said, for I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example that you also should do just as I have done for you.’_ ”

Jacob scoffs and shakes his head. _He sounds just like Old Mad Seed,_ he thinks. Except Joseph’s words express more love than their father was ever capable of showing. Jacob’s fingers tighten around his arms that he has crossed over his chest. He hates thinking of that man that he refuses to call his dad.

“Jesus expects us to do as he had done to his disciples. We must show our love for one another by serving each other. In order for us to serve, we must be humble.” Joseph presses his outstretched hand against the crown tattooed on the center of his chest. “It’s hard for us to be humble, because humans are prideful and selfish. Even Jesus’ own disciples couldn’t move to wash each other’s feet or else they’d be giving up their pride.

“However, Jesus showed us that in order to prove our love we must serve, no matter our station in life. He was humble and could serve others because He knew what He was put on this Earth to do. He had nothing to prove. He was not concerned with disappointing His followers or impressing the ones around Him. He was not worried about His disciples looking upon Him differently for acting as a servant.” He lifts both his hands in worship, looking up as though he could see God looking down on him from the twilit sky through the roof of the church. “He humbly served His God freely, _submissively_.” He brings his hands back down to his sides and looks back out at his flock. “Many of us are too afraid of losing our pride to serve others, averse to being humble in serving our God. But we must remember who we are, and that will allow us to be servants of God. For we are His children, and we are _loved_ by Him, as you are my children, and you are loved by me.”

Joseph casts his eyes down to the floor, almost sadly, before meeting the eyes of his followers once again. Jacob _knows_ what he’s about to preach, feels it coursing through the air, and it makes him sick. His younger brother has been right about a lot of things, but Jacob hopes, inwardly _prays_ to the God that Joseph believes in, that he’s wrong. _Please, don’t let it be her that walks through those doors tonight._

“However, there is someone among us, my dear children, that does not serve us. She is a poisonous viper that has made her home within our Family. She has no love for us in her heart, and her pride is too great. She will do everything in her power to tear us down, and she will try to destroy everything that we’ve built here.” He paces from one side of the dais to the other, scanning his eyes over the small crowd. “Now, I know you’re wondering who this Judas amongst out Heralds is. Who is this person that we accepted into our family, this turn cloak who we loved deeply with all our hearts? Well, you will see her tonight, my children.”

He looks towards Faith, standing off to the left side of the stage, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Now, I know that some of you will blame yourselves for this person’s actions. You will torture yourselves for not seeing it coming and not preventing it.” He turns to John towards the back of the dais. “Some will hate her deeply for it, and you will want to punish her for what she’s done.” Jacob could see his little brother seething next to him with a burning rage. “And I’m sure a lot of you,” Joseph’s eyes finally fell on Jacob, and he can’t stand his brother’s sympathetic gaze on him. Jacob tears his gaze away from him, his thumb rubbing against the golden band on his left ring finger, “will feel lost and adrift.”

“Most of all, we will all feel betrayed.” He turns back to the pews, holding his hands out to his people. “I am here to tell you that all of these feelings are valid. It is okay for you to feel sore over what will transpire. However, I want you to remember that this person is a part of our Family, and she will hold a vital role in what’s to come. Though she has strayed from the Path, it doesn’t mean that she is beyond saving. We need to find it in our hearts to forgive her, for if we don’t we are no better than the nonbelievers.”

Just then, the sound of helicopter blades pierces the silence. Everyone in the pews looks around the church nervously, though Jacob stays mesmerized by a scuff mark on the wooden floor. His thumb is still worrying the smooth surface of his ring, and his stomach clenches sickeningly as though it knows who’s coming. _She will come,_ Joseph had told him before the sermon, _She will walk through those doors, and I need you to be strong for me, brother. Just like you always have been._

_No, you’re wrong. You’ve been right about everything else, but you’re wrong in this,_ Jacob had wanted to respond, but he is not in the habit of wearing his emotions on his sleeve like John. Saying that would only expose how much he truly cares for her. He’d followed his brother here, to Hope County, Montana, based on a prophecy that a voice had whispered into Joseph’s ear first when they were children and then again years later. He trusts his brother with everything and will die for him when it comes to that, but he _knows_ Joseph is wrong about _her_. She loves Jacob, he can feel it in everything she does. And she loves John and Faith and Joseph too.

Joseph’s eyes glance up, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, before looking back to his flock. “My children, join me in ‘Amazing Grace’ to end this sermon.”

As their singing begins, the sound of the helicopter gets closer and closer until the loud metallic flapping becomes a hum that harmonizes with the song. Jacob’s foot taps against the wood of the stage, clenching his left hand into a fist and straightening his form from leaning against the wall.

He glances over to Faith, still trying to hold back her tears as she sings. Faith had been the first to accept _her_ into their family, and they’d become fast friends. Faith had been excited to finally have a girl in the family that she could talk to, and she’d often invited herself over to their cabin or invited them both to her place, much to Jacob’s displeasure.

John is as straight as a board next to him, his hands behind his back and teeth grinding together as he clenches and unclenches his jaw. Jacob can see how his eyes burn with hatred, can feel how the anger hangs around him like an aura, affecting all who pass through it. John had never been close to _her_. Jacob had never allowed any kind of relationship to grow between those two, never allowed her to be alone with him. Mostly because…well…he doesn’t want to think about that. Not right now.

Then there was Joseph, who’d been against all of what happened between _her_ and Jacob. Despite all of it, he’d still accepted her into their family; whether if it was only to please Jacob or some other reason, Jacob doesn’t know. She’d talk to him once a week since the night she’d met him, away from Jacob and the rest of the family. Jacob never knew what they talked about, but he has a feeling it might have something to do with the trauma she’d gone through as a child.

He doesn’t really want to think about that, either.

As soon as their hymn finishes, the doors of the church open, and he can’t help but immediately look to see if she’s there, desperate to prove Joseph wrong about her. He can’t see over the heads of the church goers standing towards the back, and no matter how much he cranes his neck he still can’t see her. He does see Sheriff Whitehorse, though, and another man wearing a bullet-proof vest, the words U.S. MARSHAL written in bold yellow font across the chest. He can just barely make out the figure of…someone…just behind them, but the sheriff and marshal are blocking his view.

“Something is coming. You can feel it, can’t you?” Joseph says, his voice ringing out through the silence. The floorboards groan against the weight of the marshal and sheriff as they walk in. The Peggies standing at the back turn to face them at the sound, the men glaring while the women look worried. When their eyes see the third person, shock and disbelief overpower their features, and Jacob feels the knot in his stomach tighten.

_God, please, don’t let it be her,_ he silently begs, _I swear I’ll never stray from you again, just please don’t let it be her._ He should know better, though. God has never been one to ease his miseries or answer his prayers. “That we are creeping toward the edge…and there will be a reckoning.” Joseph looks out over the small crowd, and Jacob searches his expression for some clue as to whether or not it’s actually _her_ coming down the aisle. Joseph’s chin dips to his chest, his lips pressed tightly together before looking back out over the sea of beards and unkempt hair. “That is why we started the Project. Because we know what happens next. They will come. They will try to take from us…”

Jacob doesn’t even hear what else his brother says after that, for the sea parts and he sees her clearly now. Mercy Seed, his wife. He can hear nothing but the pounding of his heart in his ears, and his hands and fingers become numb. He knows when a panic attack is coming on, has had them enough over the years that he can try to control them. He breathes in deep, swallowing through his dry throat as his nails dig into the muscle of his biceps.

His brother is yelling things now, and the marshal is holding up a piece of paper and screaming something about a warrant, but he doesn’t care. He can’t bring himself to focus on anything but his wife standing behind them. Her expression is blank and unreadable, but he can see how her hands shake at her sides. Her violet eyes are glittering as though she’s holding back from crying, and the corners of her full lips are slightly downturned.

The Peggies stand from their seats now crowding around them, and he watches as her eyes dart nervously about. “Here they are…” Joseph says, his hands gesturing to the three who’d just entered. “The locusts in our Garden…and the snake who’s betrayed us…” They’re crowding around them more now, blocking the view of his wife. “You see they’ve come for me. They’ve come to take me away from you. They’ve come to destroy all that we built.”

Now everyone is yelling and reaching for weapons, and he takes a shaky step forward. _If any of them hurt her, if any of them touch my Mercy, I swear I’ll slaughter all of them. I won’t stop until it’s just me and her left in this world._ He feels a hand tighten around his arm and turns his neck to see John. Jacob jerks out of his grasp while John just shakes his head. “You need to be strong, brother,” John whispers to him, but he can barely hear it over the commotion.

_I am fucking strong,_ he thinks as he walks with him to stand behind Joseph.

Joseph steps forward, putting his hands on two of his followers’ shoulders. “We knew this moment would come. We have prepared for it. Go. Go.” They do as they’re bid, pushing their way past the marshal and the sheriff while they glare at Mercy as they pass her. “God will not let them take me.” Joseph finally looks upon Mercy once all the Peggies have passed her. “Mercy, my dear sister, what have you done?”

Jacob sees her throat bob as she swallows, but she doesn’t lift her hands to sign in answer. “You traitorous snake. I knew who you were since the moment I met you, and I tried to steer you on the right path. Were you planning this all along? Are you happy now with what you’ve done?” She widens her eyes and looks down, turning her head to her shoulder. “No, you will look at me. You will look at the faces of your brothers and your sister and your husband, and you will look upon what you’ve wrought!”

“That’s enough!” Whitehorse shouts, turning and placing a hand on Mercy’s shoulder. “Rook, you know what you need to do.”

She looks towards them then, eyes gently scanning over each of their faces. Her eyes only land on his for an instant before she turns her face away from him, lifting her left hand to fold a loose strand of shoulder length black hair behind her ear. His heart constricts when her engagement and wedding rings catch the light.

Joseph lifts his hands. “I saw when the Lamb opened the First Seal, and I heard as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts say, come and see…”

“Step. Forward,” the marshal interrupts.

Joseph’s hands fall back down to his side as he takes a step towards them, his gaze intent on the marshal. “…and I saw, and behold it was a white horse…” his head turns toward the sheriff, then to Mercy, “…and Hell followed with him.” His hands stretch out before him as Mercy’s eyes widen at his statement, and all is still.

“Enough. This isn’t a goddamn family outing,” the marshal snaps as he grabs Mercy’s arm and pulls her forward. “Rookie, cuff this son of a bitch.”

“Go on, _Deputy_ Seed. Do your duty, since that is more important to you than your _Family_ ,” Joseph says, his tone sharp, “But God will _not_ let you take me.”

She just stands there, looking at Joseph as she fiddles with the cuffs at her belt.

“Rook!” the marshal barks, making her shoulders jump. “Put the cuffs on him!”

Something seems to switch on in her as she methodically and mechanically pulls the cuffs from her belt and snaps them shut around Joseph’s wrists. She doesn’t even look at them before moving behind him and urging him forward with a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he hears Whitehorse whisper.

_This isn’t happening,_ Jacob thinks. And yet, it is. The last time she’d been in this church had been on their wedding day in a pure flowing white dress. And she’d been happy. Hell, he’d been happy too.

He hears the commotion outside as soon as the doors open, and before he knows it he can’t see his brother or his wife anymore as they disappear around a corner. He jumps back when John touches his shoulder, his baby brother raising an eyebrow before his eyes dart to his arms.

“You’re bleeding,” he says simply.

Jacob glances down to his arms and sure enough there are small blood stains soaking through the fabric of his army jacket where his nails are still digging in. He swears as he drops his hands, finally aware of the light stinging.

Faith glances between the two of them, Jacob just now noticing the tears staining her cheeks. “I…I’m gonna go and try to unify our people. I’m sure their…their probably losing faith right now.” With that she turns on her heels and swiftly walks out of the church.

When it is just him and his brother left alone, John turns to him. “Are you okay?”

“Of course, I’m fucking okay, John.” Jacob reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, pressing one between his lips and cupping his hand around the flame of his lighter. “I’m just fucking peachy.”

“Joseph wouldn’t want you smoking in the church.”

“Well, Joseph’s not here right now, is he?” He takes a harsh draw from his cigarette and can instantly feel his nerves calming a little.

John hums, squinting at his older brother. “Do you remember what Joseph said would happen?”

“It doesn’t matter what Joseph said would happen,” Jacob says simply, “I’ve believed him about everything: The coming war, the bombs dropping, the nuclear apocalypse, all of it. That shit makes sense. If you just watch the news, it’s all clear what’s going to happen. He’s wrong about this, though. He’s wrong about Mercy.”

“How can you still say that after what just happened?” John asks, “You _saw_ her walk through those doors. You _saw_ her cuff him. You _saw_ her leave with him.”

“I know what I fucking saw!” Jacob shouts, taking another draw.

“I need to know something, though,” John starts, but two gunshots go off outside Jacob moves as if he’s going to rush out. John puts a hand against his brother’s chest and holds his arm with his other hand. “Stop, listen to me. Both her and Joseph are fine right now, but I _need_ to talk to you about something. I need to know that you’re on Joseph’s side.”

“The fuck kind of dumb thing is that to say?”

“You _know_ what I’m talking about.” He hears a large crash somewhere in the distance and suddenly Jacob’s thirteen again, watching his brothers get beat and listening to them crying out. He’s weak again, too weak to do anything to end their sufferings. “Jacob. Look at me, brother.” John pulls him out of his nightmarish thoughts, meeting his baby brother’s gaze. “Listen, I feel for you, brother. I really do, losing your wife can’t be easy.”

“I haven’t lost her yet,” Jacob says, his tone grating against his ears pathetically.

“ _Yet_ ,” John repeats, “All I’m saying is, Mercy may be my sister, but she’s not blood. When everything’s said and done, I’m on Joseph’s side,” he squeezes Jacob’s arm, “, and I want you on his side too, brother. I haven’t forgotten how you took care of me and Joseph, and I love you for it.”

Jacob feels the knot at the back of his throat. This is all too much. He pulls out of John’s grasp. “You’re acting like it’s the end of the world.”

John laughs. “It kind of is, isn’t it?”

Jacob gives a short laugh. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“Seriously, though,” John says, his tone going solemn. “We can try to bring her back to the light, but Joseph says that’s not going to happen. He says she’s going to try and kill us, that she’s going to do everything in her power to destroy our Project.” His brows furrow as he frowns. “Please, Jacob, I _need_ to know that you won’t abandon us.”

“I’m not going to abandon anyone,” Jacob says taking another draw of his cigarette. “Do you really think I’d betray Joseph like that?”

“I don’t know.” John casts his eyes to the floor. “People are unpredictable when it comes to family, and Mercy is a part of our family.” The shouting outside pulls them from their conversation, and John casts a glance over his shoulder before turning back to Jacob. “I’m going back to my ranch to get the plane ready, in case anything happens.” John places his hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “I’m serious, brother, this might be the last time we’re able to speak to each other. I love you, okay?”

Jacob shrugs his hand off. Feelings are something that he doesn’t do well. Even with Mercy it’s difficult, and she tries to bring out a _lot_ of feeling from him. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Go. I’ll hold down the fort.”

John nods, turning and heading out the door. Jacob stands there in the solitude of the church, with nothing but the shouting outside to break the serenity of the moment. _How did it come to this?_ He wonders, taking a draw from his cigarette. Was it when he met Mercy or when he married her? Was it when he took her to John’s ranch to meet his family?

Or had this all been decided back on that day in June, when Old Mad Seed had beaten Joseph with his belt because of a fucking Spiderman comic?

Jacob sighs, throwing his cigarette down and snuffing it out beneath his boot.


	2. Mercy Seed I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just thought I'd go on ahead and post this chapter. I had to rewrite it three times to get it the way I wanted it.
> 
> I'll be posting dates and times before certain sections so that there's no confusion about when things are happening. Hopefully, it's comprehensible enough.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, and let me know what you think!

**Ten Years Ago,  
July 15, 2008 – 5:06 PM**

Mercy is tired. She’s tired of constantly having to check the locks on her doors and windows at random times throughout the night. She’s tired of the nightmares that plague her sleep. She’s tired of having to sleep with the lights on. She sometimes feels eyes on her, even when she’s alone.

It didn’t have to be Hope County, Montana. Though, she does admit that the name had been one of the main reasons for coming here. Hope. That’s something she desperately needs right now. She needs the space to breathe and think and be alone without the ghosts that haunted her back in Maryland. And God is she happy not to be in Maryland anymore. There’s nothing left for her there except the resting places of her grandmother and her parents.

Mercy had grown up an only child in a motherless home. Her father, a policeman, had been the one to raise her until she was thirteen, though he wasn’t neglectful as some parents are when they lose their spouses. He never turned to drinking or drug abuse. He cared for and loved her deeply up until the moment he died.

_Just be quiet, baby girl. Stay hidden. Don’t make a sound. It’ll all be fine._ Except it wasn’t, and she’s to blame for it. Even now, years after it’s happened, the memory of that night still weighs down on her relentlessly. She and her father had gone to the small corner store at the end of their block just to get some snacks for their weekly movie night, when a robber had walked in and started holding up the cashier. Her father had shoved her into the cleaning closet at the back of the store.

The stench of bleach and other chemicals suffocated her as she listened to her father try to reason with the man. Her hand had been pressed to her mouth so hard that she’d gotten bruises. And even as two gunshots rang in the store, she didn’t make a single sound. It wasn’t until the police had shown up a few hours later when they found her in the closet, laying in a fetal position on the ground while she cried. They asked her question after question, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to utter a single syllable.

She’d been given to her grandmother then, who had been loving and kind to Mercy even though she’d never met her. She lived in her grandmother’s two-story home, and it’d taken her a long while to adjust to the new life. Her grandmother was understanding and patient through it all, though. She’d taught Mercy sign language so that she would be able to communicate with other people. Even though she’d been bullied at school for her muteness, she still treasures those seven years she’d lived with her grandmother.

Still, nothing lasts forever. Eventually her grandmother became sick in her old age, and she kept getting worse. Mercy stayed with her, not going to college, working odd jobs just so that she could take care of the old woman. Mercy owed it to her, after all. She could’ve easily just handed Mercy off to the state, this granddaughter she hadn’t even known existed until her son-in-law died.

And now she’s all alone.

Mercy had, of course, inherited everything her grandmother had after she died. She hadn’t been surprised, but it felt wrong owning her things, sleeping in a house that now felt hollow and cold and completely devoid of life.

So, she moved here. Moving from a two-story house into a one-room cabin has been a little drastic for her, but she’s been through worse. Plus, it’s secluded enough, and the scenery is beautiful. Everywhere she looks there are trees and mountains. Just past the tree line she can see a lake, smiling when a fish jumps out of the water to catch a bug. Though she does have a neighbor about a stone’s throw away, the realtor told her that she’d probably never meet him. Not only is he unfriendly to visitors, he’s also a hermit and mostly keeps to himself.

That’s fine with her. She didn’t move here to make friends, only to find some peace. Though sometimes she’ll find herself glancing over at his cabin, dark windows staring back at her. She is _curious_ about him, but too shy to make the first move and introduce herself.

She has to admit that her cabin already feels like home only after a few weeks. She has a seasonal job as a picker at one of the orchards in the valley, and that’s calming enough work. She closes her eyes and breathes in deep, inhaling the scents of the flora and plants around her. _Yes,_ she thinks, _This place could definitely be home._

The wind picks up and blows her hair about, and she sighs, turning around and going back inside. She heats some water on the stove, so she can eat the thousandth ramen noodle packet she’s had since she moved here. It’s not that she doesn’t know how to cook. It’s only that all the recipes she knows are her grandmother’s. She knows that if she makes her grandmother’s spaghetti she’ll have a mental breakdown, and that’s just pathetic. Still, she misses _real_ food. Not this processed, quick meal bullshit.

She cringes when she takes the first bite of her meager dinner (if you can even call it that) and decides at once that this is the last day she’ll eat a noodle pack. When she’s finished, she collects her dirty clothes and puts them in the washer. The cabin didn’t come with a dryer, but there’s a line hung up between her and her neighbor’s houses for during the summer, and Mercy bought a rack to use indoors during the winter or when it’s raining. Once her clothes are hanging and drying, she grabs her keys and purse and walks down the dirt path to the parking lot.

It only takes her a few minutes to get to the store and gather up some groceries. At the checkout counter, the young man working as the cashier smiles at her. “You’ve got a lot of groceries, ma’am.” She blushes. It’s actually the first time she’s _bought_ groceries since she got here. She just nods, not really wanting to strike up a conversation but also not wanting to have to go through the _Oh, are you deaf? I don’t know sign language_ , spiel and draw attention to herself. Though the cashier doesn’t get the hint. His eye spies the little button on her shirt that says, _Hello! My name is Mercy._ “Oh, you’re that lady that moved into that old cabin next to that Eden’s Gate fella, right?”

Mercy raises an eyebrow. She doesn’t even know what Eden’s Gate is. He continues, “That’s a really nice lake. There’s some salmon there if ya wanna try your hand at some fishin’.” Mercy sets aside that fishing information for later. It is something that she’s been interested to try since she moved into the cabin. “Just stay away from that neighbor of yours. That dude’s seriously psycho!” She perks up at the mention of her neighbor. “Some years back some kids tried to trick-or-treat at his cabin, and he ran them off with a gun. And Last year he beat the piss outta some dude for hunting around his property.” Mercy raises her eyebrows.

Somebody yells at the back of the line, causing the cashier to divert his attention, “Shut up, Jess, I’m helpin’ the new lady!”

Well, Mercy wishes she could just shrivel away into dust right about now.

Thankfully, he keeps ringing up and bagging her items and quietly at that. She hands him her money, and as she waits for her change he says, “You have a nice night, ma’am. Don’t be a stranger.”

_Don’t count on it,_ Mercy thinks, but she smiles and nods anyway.

**March 28, 2018 – 8:47 PM**

_No one is coming to save you._

That moment replays in Mercy’s head as she runs with reckless abandon through the forest surrounding the cult’s compound. _I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have done this._ She hadn’t even known about any of this until three weeks ago when Earl had shown her the video in his office.

Mercy couldn’t bring herself to stop watching it any chance she got. It just…didn’t seem like it was actually happening, that it was _her_ family that was causing all this pain and suffering. She should’ve investigated the death of Mary May’s father. She should’ve tried to stop this before it got out of hand. She should’ve… If only she could…

She makes a beeline for the house as soon as she sees it. She can hide in there. She’ll be safe as long as she stays _hidden_ and _quiet_. She can hear the Peggies calling out to her somewhere behind her, but surely, they didn’t see her come this way, right?

“It happened just as the Father said it would!”

Mercy very nearly screams when she sees the two men standing near the cage just past the back steps. She slides down on the dirt, crouching behind a stack of logs. One of the men glances in her direction, scanning over the area, before turning back to the cage. She presses a hand to her mouth, heart beating in her ears. She takes two deep breaths, trying to will her blood to quiet within her.

“I saw it. They tried to kill him. They tried to kill the Father.”

_No, I would never!_ Mercy thinks, _I love him just as much as you._ What is she doing here then, if she truly loves Joseph so much? He’s supposed to be her family, and yet Mercy turned her back on him all the same. But she’s a cop. It’s her job to keep people safe, and he’d kidnapped those people in the video. Supposedly killed others. And Mercy is a part of their family, as well. Did she not have a right to know about any of this? How long had they been lying to her?

She feels sick.

Mercy peeks around the corner to make sure the two men aren’t facing her before quickly sneaking past them up the stairs and onto the porch. There’s a wooden bat leaning next to the door that she can use to defend herself if she has to. She’d rather it not come to that, though. Despite everything, they are still her family. She still loves them.

Strangely, she hopes that they still love her too.

Mercy pushes the back door open and enters the house, checking around the corners to make sure no one is inside. She holds her bat in both hands as she remains crouched, keeping it ready in case she needs to use it fast. The calls of the search party are closer now, and she’s almost certain that the two men outside have finished talking. She needs to move on _fast_.

She finds a pistol on the floor in the next room, and she places it in her holster, resolving that she’ll only use it as a last resort. These people…they have to know that what they’re doing is wrong. At least _some_ of them do. There are just so _many_ … Either they know, or someone is lying to them. Maybe something is controlling them? Something that is making them and her family sick? That must be it.

She goes into the next room and sees a yellow cabinet. Mercy opens it, hoping to find some ammo for her gun. There are a few bullets but not much else. She loads the bullets into her gun, only aware too late of the creaking of the floorboards behind her.

It almost shocks her, how quickly she reacts. She turns swiftly, sprinting towards the man who’s just seen her. He opens his mouth to shout for the others, but Mercy is quicker. She kicks him in the groin and swings her bat hard against his temple. He doesn’t make a single sound as he falls to the floor, unconscious and bleeding. So much that a pool is forming at her feet. She stands there, frozen and wide-eyed, staring at what she’s just done. Mercy opens her mouth as if to form words and ask the man if he’s alright, but only a small pathetic whine comes out. Besides, she knows that’s a stupid question to ask. The man is clearly out cold. Perhaps even dead.

Mercy’s senses seem to instantly return to her, and she feels herself able to breathe again. She hears the search party. She hears dogs barking somewhere in the distance. She is surrounded by people who may be out for her blood. She just mortally wounded a man with a baseball bat, and she’s horrified by _all_ of it.

And once again, she’s all alone.

Mercy scans her surroundings and sees the open window towards the back of the living area. She swings her legs over the framing and pushes herself down, crouching once she’s hit the ground. She sneaks around the corner of the house, holding her bat at the ready in her shaky sweaty palms. Once she makes it past the chain-linked fence she stands and sprints in whatever direction she’s facing, hoping that she’s not heading right back to the compound.

She jumps when her radio beeps to life. “Hello… Anyone hearing me?” Mercy instantly recognizes Burke’s voice. He’d been able to run off as well when the helicopter crashed. Hopefully, he’s alright. Despite how arrogant and cocky he is, she believes his heart is in the right place. “Hello? It’s Burke… Hello?” She briefly wonders if she should answer him, but the Morse code buttons on her radio beep very loudly when used, and she’s sure that if she tries to speak her voice would be too hoarse for him to be able to make out anything she’s saying.

“I think I lost them… I see a…a trailer nearby. It’s next to a long bridge… I’m gonna try and get inside…if anyone’s still out there… Listen, if anyone’s still alive…” Before Burke’s able to finish what he’s saying, the radio cuts off. The frequency had had way too much interference, so Mercy’s sure that his or her radio has died.

Just as she makes it up a particularly steep hill, she sees the long bridge Burke referred to extended out over the ridge before her. She crouches as she walks across, nervously glancing over both sides in case anyone is following her or looking her way. When she makes it to the other side, her knees buckle out from beneath her, and she falls on her hands and knees.

The knot at the back of her throat that she had not known was there releases, and Mercy pukes up all her anxiety and trauma. _There’s no way I’m going to make it out of this,_ she thinks, and her vision twists as she begins to feel dizzy and faint. God her chest hurts so bad, her lungs burning from overexertion. Mercy lifts a hand to her chest, trying to claw her heart out so that the cult won’t do it for her.

Mercy squeezes her eyes shut, taking in a few deep breaths to calm herself. She needs to keep moving. She pushes herself up and heads for the trailer. As soon as she opens the door and walks inside an arm reaches around her shoulder and clamps around her throat in a choke hold.

She acts quickly, Jacob’s self defense training finally coming into use. She grabs the man’s elbow and uses her left leg to step around so that it is now behind her assailant’s legs. Now that her and her attacker are hunched over, Mercy turns her head and pulls it out from beneath his arm. She then grabs ahold of his arm and pins it down against his back.

When she sees the yellow letters of the marshal’s vest she releases him, but Burke is not having any of it. “I should never have let the sheriff convince me that taking you was the best option!” He lunges at her, taking her down and pinning her with his hips between her legs. “You planned this all along, didn’t you? You knew this was going to happen!”

Burke leans his body forward and she lifts her hands, pushing against his shoulders. His hands reach around her arms to choke her, hands clasping tightly around her neck. She feels the panic building in her as she struggles to breathe. _You’re panicking,_ Mercy remembers Jacob saying when he’d snuck up on her, _Panicking is what’s going to get you killed._

Mercy clears the fear from her mind, focusing on what Burke is doing. She crisscrosses her hands over his arms and grabs ahold of his wrists, lifting her hips as high as she can. She slams her butt back down and pushes down on his arms with her elbows, breaking his grip on her throat and tucking her chin so he can’t grab her again. While Burke’s struggling to break out of her hold, she bends her knees so she can place her feet on his hips. Mercy pushes against him as hard as she can, and he bends forward from the pressure, pulling him taught like a bow string.

Burke tries to pull away from her, but she uncrosses her arms and grabs his wrists again. Mercy pulls her knees up between his arms and kicks him hard in the face. He falls back, knocked out, while she pulls herself out from under him. She searches his belt for his handcuffs and cuffs him, nabbing the keys as well and putting them in her pocket.

Once she’s safe, she pushes herself back until she’s leaning against the wall. Her head falls back against the siding while she takes deep breaths. When she’s collected her composure, she stands, glancing through the rest of the trailer to make sure they’re alone. She stops in the little living and dining area when she spots a picture of her and her family on the wall.

Faith sits in the front, her elbow resting on Joseph’s knee where he sits in the center. John is standing behind him holding the Book of Joseph, and she and Jacob are on Joseph’s other side. Jacob has his hand around her waist and Mercy hadn’t caught this at the time but he’s actually looking at her. With a _smirk_ on his face. She’d been smiling goofily at the camera with her hand on Jacob’s chest. In fact, she (and perhaps Jacob too) is the only one who’s smiling. Everyone else looks so stoic, statuesque. She lifts a finger and traces the frame, the sting of tears against the back of her eyes.

_Why did I do this?_ Mercy presses her forehead against the cool glass. Her eyes screw shut, and she sobs as the tears just fall of their own volition. _What’s going to happen to me?_ Her thoughts lead back to her family: all those long talks with Joseph, the secrets her and Faith shared. She doesn’t have very many memories with John, but she remembers the moment they’d shared on her wedding night when she thinks he’d finally accepted her into his family. And Jacob…

Mercy lifts her hand to her throat, feeling as though she might puke again but instead crying out. They’ve been through so much together. Ten years of friendship, dates, and late-night conversations. Ten years of comforting each other through their nightmares. Ten years of Jacob breaking her out of her shell and of Mercy teaching him that it’s okay for him to love and _feel_ loved in return.

All this time… Does it all mean nothing now? What are they going to do to her now that she’s betrayed them? She’s seen all the scars on Joseph’s and John’s bodies, marking them with their sins. Would they do that to her? Would they try to cut the sin from her body as they do with all their followers? Would Joseph press his fingers in her eyes as he’d done to the man in the video? Or would they just kill her and be done with it, as they’d done to Mary May’s father and brother?

Mercy lifts her head, breathing in deeply and wiping her cheeks with her wrist to dry them. She opens her eyes, willing herself to calm. She needs to focus on getting off the island and getting help. She looks out the window and sees a truck parked beneath a wooden carport. She glances over the tables and other surfaces in the room, trying to find the keys. She dives for the silver glint on the floor and almost kisses the key she now holds, mouthing a _Thank you_ to the sky.

She goes back to the room she’d entered from to get Burke. He’s still very much unconscious, so she has to carry him. And he’s definitely heavier than he looks. She grunts when she heaves him up from beneath his shoulders and she all but drags him through the front door. She can hear the Peggies approaching as she makes her way to the truck. _Damn it,_ she curses as she unlocks the truck. She opens the passenger side door, and with all the strength she possesses, she hauls Burke up in her arms and sits him in the passenger seat. Once he’s secured in the seatbelt, she sprints to the other side and gets into the driver’s seat.

Mercy turns the key in the ignition and whines when the engine stutters. “They’re over there!” She turns the key again, but it still doesn’t start. She slams her fists on the steering wheel, her breaths coming out short. She turns the key once more. If it doesn’t start this time, she’ll either have to stand and fight or leave Burke behind, neither of which being favorable options. She presses her feet down hard on the brake pedal. She laughs when the engine comes to life and puts the truck in drive. She slams her foot on the gas pedal, and the tires skid on the dirt before the truck speeds forward.

She drives towards the gates at the end of the dirt path, her heart jumping in her throat when she sees two Peggies there with their guns aimed at her. She doesn’t let up on the gas, knowing that they expect her to either swerve to not hit them or stop. Luckily, they jump out of the way as she slams through the gate.

When she turns to cross the bridge, Burke’s head slams against the passenger side window. He’s awake now and blinking around, confused. Mercy sees the roadblock way too late and swerves to miss the other vehicles, smashing a wooden sign to splinters. “Holy shit!” Burke yells as some bullets hit their truck. He turns to her, holding his hands out. “Please, uncuff me!” He flinches when she turns suddenly to avoid colliding into a semi and crashes through a wooden fence next to a bar. “Fuck! Listen, I’m sorry for trying to choke you out, but uncuff me so I can shoot these fucking psychopaths!”

Mercy fishes around in her pocket and pulls out the keys for the cuffs, tossing them to Burke. He unlocks one cuff, and she pulls the pistol out of her holster and holds it out for him to take. As soon as he has it, he smashes the window with the grip and leans out to fire at the trucks following them. As she approaches a train track and tries to lose the Peggies by weaving in between the carts, a loud explosion rumbles through the air. She screams, the car veering a little from her being startled.

“Keep her steady, Rookie! I’m throwing dynamite at them!” _Dynamite!? Are you fucking insane!?_ A few more explosions go off, and Mercy’s grip on the wheel gets tested from how sweaty her hands are. Her heart is hammering so hard in her chest that she almost thinks she’s having a heart attack. She turns out off the tracks and goes over an overturned handcar.

For a moment, everything is quiet, save for the sound of their truck’s engine. Mercy breathes a heavy sigh of relief, thinking they’ve lost the Peggies. “Is that a fucking plane?! Don’t you tell me they have fucking air support.”

A string of curses flies out of Burke’s mouth as the plane swoops down on them and tries to shoot at them. _This is why we needed the National Guard!_ She turns back onto the main road behind another Peggie truck. A man in the back hoots, “John is coming!” _Fuck,_ Mercy inwardly curses, _John’s trying to kill us._ She starts to hyperventilate as she presses her foot down harder on the gas pedal, though it can’t go any lower.

“Rook, calm down! We’re alright, just focus on driving and we’ll make it out of this.” Mercy hopes he’s right, but that doesn’t help her nerves in the slightest. She’s swerving all over the road, trying to serpentine maneuver so that they aren’t shot, almost falling off a narrow wooden bridge they cross over. “Rook, Keep her steady!”

Her eyes go wide when she sees John’s plane circle around and slowly lower towards them. Explosions erupt all around them as he drops the bombs in front of them. She can’t see through the dust, but she keeps going straight. Luckily for them, she exits the cloud safely on the other side.

She crashes through another roadblock, the car jumping a little as she drives over a ramp. She breathes out a small laugh when she sees the Henbane River Bridge. _We’re so close!_

She sees John’s plane circle around again, heading straight for them. The whistling of the bombs he’s dropping overpower all other sounds, and she feels her stomach clench unpleasantly. It’s as if time slows down, and Mercy is paused in a moment of terror. _There’s no way out…_ she thinks, _He’s gonna kill us._ She can’t reverse fast enough or surge forward far enough to miss the bombs.

She looks to the side of the bridge and turns in a final moment of desperation. The truck rattles as the bombs explode, and her heart seems to stop beating as the vehicle falls slowly to the water below, her spine shivering endlessly. When the truck hits the water, her head snaps forward and hits the steering wheel.

When Mercy opens her eyes again, the truck is sinking in the water, and her lungs are burning for air. Burke is next to her struggling to get his seatbelt off. She feels for her own, surprised to find that she’d driven without it on and _lived_ through all that mess. She reaches for her boot and unsheathes a hunting knife Jacob had given her for one of her birthdays, cutting away at the marshal’s bindings. Once he’s free she pulls herself out through her now broken window and thrashes her arms about, desperate to reach the surface and breathe again.

She blacks out mid swim but opens her eyes again and now she’s on the shore, throwing up the water from her lungs.

“Jacob’s wife was in that truck!”

“In the trees! Look at the trees!”

“Check the shoreline!”

She turns over, transfixed by the blurry lights on the bridge. She holds her hand out, wondering if the heat from the light can warm her chilled bones. “No! Get off me! I am a United States Federal Marshal!”

“Bur…ke…?” she sputters, coughing up more water and turning her head in the direction the noise had come from.

“This one needs a little Faith… Take him to the Pilgrimage.”

Her head falls back, and she feels nothing when she sees someone looming over her.

“Find Mercy! Keep searching!”

“Let go! Let go! You’re all under arrest!”

She’s barely aware of the stabbing pain against her head as the stranger grabs her arm and heaves her up over his shoulder.

She sees…a radio tower…

She sees…a ranger station…

She sees…a staircase…leading down…to Hell…

She groans pitifully as another stab of pain penetrates her skull.

She sees…nothing…


	3. Staci Pratt I

**October 1, 2017 – 10:50 AM**

“ _And all of you clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because God resists the proud but gives grace to the humble. Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God, so that He may exalt you at the proper time, casting all your care on Him, because He cares about you._ ”

Staci hates having Mercy for his partner on Sundays. She always tunes in to the Peggie radio station on these days, so that she can listen to Joseph’s sermons. It used to not bother him so much. It used to be just like any other Christian radio station. Lately though, Joseph’s becoming more urgent in his teachings. His foretelling’s of the end of the world are so vivid, so detailed, that it sends an unpleasant shiver down Staci’s spine.

Staci almost believes him.

And he’d heard the horrible rumors about the cult. How they kidnap people in the middle of the night and drown them in the rivers of the Valley. How there are experiments being run in the Veteran’s Center in the Whitetails. He’d even heard of a new drug being created in the Henbane River. Still, when all of them at the sheriff’s department were sent to investigate, they never found anything. It seems like that’s all they ever are is rumors. Still makes Staci sick to his stomach to hear about it, though.

Still, Mercy seems the most chill out of the Seeds. Not that Staci’s met any of the others. He’d only seen them at Mercy’s wedding about five years back, and he hadn’t really talked with any of the attendees outside of Joey. I mean, sure, Mercy believes in this “Great Collapse” that Eden’s Gate preaches so much about, but she doesn’t shove it down everyone’s throats. He always wonders what she would say if he asked her about any of these rumors. Would she tell him the truth? Does she even know about any of them?

They sit in a comfortable silence in their police cruiser on the side of the road as they take down the speeds of the cars going by. Mercy had just used the speed gun when he asks, “So, what’s up with this guy?”

Mercy turns to him with an eyebrow raised. “ _What do you mean?_ ” she signs.

“I mean,” Staci sighs, trying to pick his words carefully, “Does he really hear a voice in his head or is he just bullshitting?”

“ _He says the Voice of the Creator talks to him, and I believe him._ ”

“It’s that easy for you? You don’t need any proof?”

“ _The proof is in what he says._ ” She leans down and fishes through her purse, pulling out a black leather book. “ _Have you ever read the Book of Joseph?_ ”

Staci scoffs. “Why? You gonna start preaching to me or something?”

“ _You’re the one who asked me for proof, and no. Preaching isn’t my thing._ ” Mercy opens the book in her lap and flips through the pages. She smiles and holds the book out to him. “ _You can borrow my copy. Read it if you want. Or don’t._ ”

He rolls his eyes as he flips the book open to a random page, reading the passage. At first, he wears a smug smirk, but once he starts reading his smile slowly disappears until his face is simply blank. He can’t even believe what he’s reading. _One night, Jacob woke John and me… began pouring gasoline on everything… and burned the stables as well… Jacob had swapped his cans of gasoline for a sturdy axe handle…_ He can’t even bring himself to read it fully. He doesn’t feel so good.

He swallows past the lump in his throat and glances at Mercy through his peripheral. He’s always known that the Seeds have had a hard life, though seeing it written down on paper fills him with a queasy feeling. Mercy is just such a good person. Her life has been hard, but sometimes he wonders if it clouds her judgments. Seeing the things that her husband did in his past…there’s no way a man like that came out of it all completely normal. And Staci’s seen the bruises on her…

“Hey, Mercy- “

“Pratt, Mercy? You there?” Nancy calls over the radio.

He lifts the mic to his mouth. “What’s up, Nan?”

“We’ve got some calls about gunfire over by Fall’s End.”

Staci presses his finger on the GPS screen mounted on the dashboard. “Whereabouts do you think it is?”

“Just south of Fall’s End on the west side of Redler Creek. A couple of teenagers are out there shootin’ at animals and other things. They probably stole the gun from wherever their parents had it hidden and are showing off to each other. Just go out there and find them, call some parents. You know, the usual.”

“Got it. We’re on route.” Staci flips on the siren and lights and drives down the road towards Fall’s End. Still, he can’t help but feel his questions niggling at the back of his mind. He’d be lying if he said that the Seeds didn’t scare him. Anyone who is capable of something as horrible as burning down their guardians’ farm and cutting them up with an axe scares him. And Mercy is _married_ to that man.

Either she’s so sweet that she sees something good in her husband despite his past or she’s just as crazy as all the other Seeds.

As they pull up on the side of the dirt road, they get out of their vehicle and pull their pistols out of their holsters. Mercy wonders out into the field before her, eyes scanning over the tall grass and trees. She kneels at the edge of the creek, stroking her fingers in the mud. She wiggles her finger to him in a come here motion. Once Staci’s at her side, she points to a footprint in the mud.

“ _They were here. Judging by the direction of the print and the way the grass is pressed, it looks like they were heading downstream._ ” She points in the following direction.

“Yeah, sure. That seems right,” Staci says, feeling a little emasculated.

She smirks at him and stands. “ _You know, Jacob could teach you how to do these kinds of things. He’s always worried about me being partnered with you. Says you’re too weak to protect me. As if I need protecting. Plus, he could use a buddy who’s not his brothers._ ”

They continue walking, the grass reaching up to their necks. Staci scratches at his forearms, the itchiness irritating him. He slaps at the back of his neck when a bug bites him, groaning. “I don’t need a fucking wifebeater teaching me anything,” he mutters under his breath.

Apparently, she hears him, because she turns to him abruptly, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “ _What did you say?_ ”

Staci turns his head to the side, continuing forward. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Mercy pulls him back harshly by the arm, forcing him to look at her. She shakes her head while her eyes squint at him and her eyebrows furrow angrily. “ _What did you just say?_ ”

He scoffs, exacerbated, and pulls himself from her tight grip. “Look, I’m not an idiot, Mercy. I’ve seen the bruises he’s left on your waist and your wrists before.”

“ _Is it because I turned you down?”_ she asks, frowning. “ _You’re just looking for any excuse you can to believe he’s a terrible person, aren’t you?_ ”

It’s true, Staci asked her out (more than once, he’ll admit) around the time she’d started working in the sheriff’s department, until she’d told him she had a boyfriend. He’s stopped feeling that way about her since, though. All he wanted was a fling and she’s cute, so he went for it. Now he only sees her as nothing more than a friend.

“No,” Staci answers, “You know I don’t feel that way towards you anymore.”

She lets out a short laugh and shakes her head in disbelief. “ _You are an idiot. Those bruises weren’t from him hitting me, that’s for sure._ ”

“Oh, bullshit!” he exclaims. “Surely, you’ve read that goddamn book you gave me. How he burned that farm down, hm? Or did you suddenly forget about it?”

“ _He already paid his dues for that. Don’t get me wrong, he shouldn’t have done that, but he went to juvie for it and now he’s changed,_ ” she signs, her face becoming red. “ _Jacob’s a good man. He went to war so that people like you,_ ” she pokes him hard in the shoulder, causing him to flinch back and rub his now throbbing muscle, “ _could keep your freedoms, and you call him things that he doesn’t deserve to be called._ ”

“And what the fuck do you mean by that, huh? People like me?”

She makes a sign that he doesn’t know, but ends with, “ _…bags._ ”

“What does that mean?”

“ _You want me to spell it out for you?_ ” He doesn’t answer her, and she smirks, lifting her hand and spelling slowly.

“ _D._ ”

“ _O._ ”

“ _U._ ”

“ _C._ ”

A rifle shot bursts through the silence, scaring the absolute life out of him. He ducks and looks around frantically. When Mercy sobs, he looks at her staring in horror as she clutches her bicep, her hand red with the blood soaking through the long sleeve of her shirt.

“Holy shit, Mercy,” he says, his voice quivering as he approaches her.

“Dude, I think you hit a person!” Staci hears, and he looks around to try and find the source of the voice. He looks over the hill and sees two teenage boys crouched in the grass at the top.

“Stop right there! You’re under arrest!” Staci shouts, holding his pistol up.

“Fuck, you shot a cop!” the boy on the left yells, pulling his friend by the arm. “We gotta get outta here, bro!”

They run off in the opposite direction, and Staci fires his gun twice. “Hey, get back here!” he calls out, but they’re already gone. He turns back to Mercy, who’s kneeling in the dirt and clutching her arm, teeth chattering together as she sobs and moans out her pain. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He pulls at the buttons on his shirt until he’s free of it and presses it against her wound.

“S-S-S-Staci?” she shudders, her eyes straining with tears.

“Hey, just hold on okay?” He ties the sleeves of his shirt around her arm, and when he pulls the knot closed she cries out. “Come on. We gotta get you to the clinic.”

Staci pulls her up by the waist and holds her while he guides her back to the car. He opens the passenger side door for her, and she squeezes his hand painfully tight as she pulls herself into her seat. He slams the door and runs around the front of the cruiser to the driver’s side. When he gets in the car, she’s staring ahead with a blank expression on her face, her body slowly leaning to the side.

“Hey, don’t go to sleep, alright? Stay awake.” He turns on the ignition and switches through the radio channels until he finds a hard rock station, turning it up as high as it’ll go. _There’s no way she’ll be able to fall asleep to that._ He slams his foot against the gas pedal, switching on the sirens and lights. Once he’s on the road, he pulls at the mic for the radio and yells into it, “Officer down! I repeat, officer down!”

“Oh my god, Pratt! I can barely hear you over that racket,” Nancy says.

“Nan, listen to me! Mercy got shot! I’m taking her to the clinic now, but those teens are still out there. I couldn’t get them!”

“Okay, I’ll send Earl to check the area out and Deputy Hudson can set up roadblocks. Just get Mercy to the clinic as fast as you can.”

Staci doesn’t even answer, just throws the mic back on the dashboard. He reaches over and pushes Mercy up, so she’s not hunched over. “Just hold on, okay? You’re going to be fine!” When he looks over he sees that her eyes are closed. He lightly smacks his hand on her face trying to get her to wake up. “Mercy, you can’t sleep. You gotta wake up!”

A car honks, bringing his attention back to the road. He swerves to the side, barely missing the collision. He curses breathlessly and resolves to keep his attention on the road. He can’t save her if he kills them in a wreck.

Staci skids to a stop in front of the clinic. He jumps out of the vehicle and runs to the other side to get her out. When he opens the door, her body falls out, and he just barely catches her. He grunts as he lifts her, wrapping her arm around his shoulders while she sags.

“Hey! Someone help me!” he calls out to whoever is close enough to hear.

A lady doctor and nurse run out to help, the doctor unfolding and pushing a wheelchair out. The nurse comes around to Mercy’s other side and picks up her feet, so they can sit her down without damaging her arm. The doctor wheels Mercy inside. Staci tries to follow, but the nurse places a hand on his chest to stop him.

“I need to get in there,” Staci says, barely aware of the rasp and tremble in his voice.

“I just need some information. She seems out of it, and we’ll need to put her on morphine for the pain. Are you related to her at all or is she only your partner?”

“I’m her partner,” he answers.

“Do you know the name of anyone in her family?”

“Jacob Seed is her husband.”

The nurse widens her eyes a little then motions for him to follow her. She leads him to a small office and sits down at one of the desks, pulling a notepad and pen out from a drawer. “Do you know her husband’s phone number?” She asks, and he gives it to her. “Alright. Since it’s a gunshot wound, we’ll need to call the police, but that doesn’t seem to be necessary. I’m sure Earl or Joey or whoever will be by soon to take yours and her statements. You’ll have to wait outside until she wakes up, though.”

It seems like he’s been waiting outside for hours. He sits with his head in his hands, slightly bitter because his black tank top isn’t protecting him from the October Montanan chill. His knee bounces anxiously, and he feels the familiar sting of tears at the edge of his eyes.

“You fuckin’ crybaby,” Staci says to himself. He sniffs and wipes his nose with his arm. “Get ahold of yourself.”

The door opens, and the doctor from earlier peeks her head out. “Mrs. Seed is awake now. She’s asking for you.”

Staci widens his eyes and looks at his watch. It’s already past noon. His fingers tighten into fists. _Fuckin’ asshole’s not here yet._ Jacob should’ve been here by now. Staci nods to the doctor, and he’s led to where Mercy is resting. He lets out a deep breath, calming his anger, before grasping the knob and pushing the door open.

“Heeey, Staci,” Mercy greets, giving him lazy finger guns. They’ve changed her out of her uniform and into one of those flimsy hospital gowns.

“Um, hey…” he greets back, unsure if he actually heard her speak. “Did you just talk?”

“What?” she asks, then she looks at her hands and smiles, “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I’m high on the morphine they gave me. This stuff is weird.”

“I thought you were mute.”

“I am,” she says simply, “I’m _selectively_ mute. I’m only able to talk to people I’m comfortable with or when I’m high or drunk.”

_Damn, that smarts,_ Staci thinks, as his heart pushes itself up his throat. He’d thought he and Mercy were friends. Does she really feel uncomfortable around him? “I’m sorry you don’t like me.”

“Hey, it isn’t like that,” she says quickly. “Well, not entirely. I mean, you did ask me out way too many times, and you are a bit of a douchebag. But there are plenty of people that I’m quiet around that I’m one hundred percent okay with.” Mercy looks down at her hands, using a finger to caress her wedding and engagement rings. “Jacob would be able to explain it better. He’s into that kind of psychology shit.” She glances up at him and raises an eyebrow. “You gonna come in or just stand there?”

He hadn’t even realized he still stood at the door. He slowly shuts the door behind him and approaches the little bed they’ve made for her on the examination table. He can see the bruises on her wrists, and somehow that makes it all worse for him. He can’t stop staring at the bandage on her bicep, arm propped up on a pillow, and she notices. “It hurts like hell. I can’t even imagine what it must’ve been like for Jacob to get multiple bullets shot into him. It went clean through, so they didn’t need to dig around for any shrapnel. It damaged my brachial artery, but it didn’t bust.”

“Mercy, I’m so sorry,” he says, and again he feels like he’s going to cry. _Dammit, you’re such a little bitch._

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault. You don’t need to blame yourself for it.” Mercy glances around the room then looks back up to him. “Where’s my husband?”

“He’s not here yet, that bastard,” Staci curses.

“Hey, that’s not fair. He’s at Joseph’s sermon.”

“He should be _here_ ,” he growls, his fists tightening at his sides. “First, he beats you, now he leaves you here while you’re shot.”

“He doesn’t beat me,” Mercy hisses. She tries to push herself up, but winces when she puts too much pressure on her arm. Staci places his hands on her shoulders and pushes her back down. She smacks his hands away. “I’m fine, don’t touch me. Listen, I’m sorry for immediately getting defensive when you accused him. I get it, you saw my bruises, you thought your friend was in trouble. But those bruises aren’t from what you think.”

He sighs and shakes his head, folding his arms in front of his chest. He doesn’t believe her.

Mercy sighs, massaging one of the bruises on her wrist. “Do you wanna know how I got these bruises?” she asks in a nasally voice, and he thinks she’s trying to do a Joker impression or something. She smiles laughing a little. “Well, Jacob fucks me… _hard_ …”

“Oh gross,” Staci groans, “I really didn’t want to know that.”

Mercy goes into a hoarse laughing fit, coughing a little towards the end. “God, you’re such a virgin.”

His cheeks heat up, and he turns away from her. “Shut up, you’re high. And I’m not a virgin.”

They both jump when the door swings open and in walks Jacob Seed. The man is only a few inches taller than Staci, and yet still he finds himself shrinking in Jacob’s presence. Jacob doesn’t even look at him as he pushes Staci out of the way and bends over Mercy. His hands come up to cup her face between them. Her undamaged arm comes up to cup his wrist in her grasp. She looks so happy, looking up at Jacob with starry eyes.

“You okay, Pup?” Jacob asks, his voice gruff and rasping. It sends a dangerous shiver through Staci’s bloodstream.

Staci sees Mercy’s grip tighten on him and she smiles, nodding her head a little. “The bullet went straight through, no shrapnel, no broken bones. It damaged my brachial artery, but nothing beyond that. It hurts like all hell, but I’ll live.”

Jacob lets out a breath, leaning over to press his lips to the crown of her head and breathing in deep. He kisses her, and when he pulls back away from her, he turns towards Staci. _Man, if looks could kill…_ The muscles in Jacob’s forearms are bulging as his hands tighten, and though his face is stone-cold, his eyes stab into him with a deep dark hatred. Where Staci is all lean with little muscle, this man is bulky and large.

“And where the fuck were you while my wife was getting shot?”

“Jacob,” Mercy says, in a warning tone. She reaches to grab Jacob’s arm, with all those disgusting rashes and scars all over it. Staci doesn’t understand how she can touch them so easily. Jacob pulls away from her when her fingertips just barely graze his skin.

Staci narrows his eyes at the larger man. “Fuck you, dude. There was nothing I could do.”

“Bullshit. You’re her partner, you’re supposed to be watching her back. What the fuck even happened?” Mercy tells him everything, leaving out hers and Staci’s argument, and Jacob just laughs when she finishes. “A couple of teenagers and you didn’t even arrest them. Wow, you really are weak shit, Peaches.”

“Jacob, stop!” Mercy yells, her voice cracking. She pushes herself off the table and stumbles forward, falling on her knees.

Jacob kneels at her side, wrapping his arms around her and picking her up like the bride she is to him. “Alright, Pup, I’m done. Lay down before you open your wound.”

As he lays her down on the table and pulls the blanket back over her, she looks back at Staci. “Staci, leave us alone for a while.”

Staci throws his hands up. “Asshole,” he murmurs, though either Jacob doesn’t hear or doesn’t care because his gaze stays on Mercy, grasping her hand lightly within his. Staci walks out.

“It’s okay, Baby, I’m all right,” He hears Mercy say through the door.

“I know you’re fucking all right,” Jacob says, and Staci can hear the slight quake in his voice.

**March 28, 2018 – 9:13 PM**

_This can’t be happening,_ Staci thinks, and yet here he is, bound at the wrists and standing before the Seed siblings back at the compound. Joey stands next to him, eyes burning with a rage he’s never seen before. She keeps trying and failing to untie the bindings on her wrists, and she’d been screaming so much that the Peggies had to close her mouth with duct tape.

_You know, silence is golden, but duct tape is silver,_ one of the Peggies had said as they pressed the tape against Joey’s mouth. Everyone had laughed, except for him, Joey, and the sheriff. Earl is on Staci’s other side, standing tall like the leader he’s always been. Though Staci can see in his eyes how terrified he really is. They’re all terrified, even Joey who has angry tears glistening at the rim of her eyes.

“My dear Family, I have returned to you,” Joseph says. He first goes to Jacob, whom he embraces, lovingly touching his forehead to the older man’s. Next is John, and Joseph squeezes his little brother’s shoulders. Finally, he turns to Faith and takes her hands into his, touching his lips to her knuckles. Once the reunion’s done, Joseph turns back to the three of them. “Before you stand three sinners. Sinners who’ve never known the true love of a family, who have lived a life of hatred, and whose souls are devoid of all light.” He turns back to his siblings, holding his hands out with palms facing up. “I’m here to bestow them upon you as gifts. You will each choose one to take with you back to your compounds.”

Joey yells something from underneath the tape that sounds like _Fuck you_ and takes a step toward the middle Seed brother. One of the Peggies standing guard smacks Joey against the neck with the butt of his gun, and she falls to the ground on her knees.

“Joey!” Earl exclaims moving to help her, but another Peggie aims the barrel of his shotgun beneath the sheriff’s throat, stilling him in his movements. Staci wants to move to help, run away, _something_ but no matter how hard he tries his feet stay planted to the ground as though roots have sprung from the soil and wrapped around his ankles.

Joseph kneels before Joey, looking down on her with eyes full of love and understanding, and it makes bile boil in Staci’s stomach. Joseph grasps Joey by the shoulders so tenderly and pulls her up to her feet. Though his gaze is affectionate, hers is filled completely with a malice that is so unlike her. “Be calm, Deputy Hudson,” Joseph says, his voice filled with the fondness of a parent comforting their child. “This chaos you have warring inside you will be healed. You will know nothing but love and devotion. One of my siblings will see to that.” He presses his forehead to hers, and though she tries to break free from him, his grip is firm and strong.

He finally releases her, and turns to Faith, the youngest Seed sibling. “Faith, my sweet sister, I will allow you to be the first to choose your gift.”

Staci hates the way his heart responds to the cute girl’s adorable smile. “You’re giving me two gifts?”

Mercy flashes across Staci’s thoughts and he clenches his hands into fists at the thought of her being tortured by one of these sick fucks. Jacob scoffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest, but it is John who responds, “It appears you’re playing favorites, Joseph.”

Faith giggles, an ethereal song dancing through the wind. She reaches for John’s hand, stroking the back of it with her thumb. “If you’ll permit it, Father, I would like for my brothers to choose first. I will take whoever’s left.”

Joseph nods. “Very well. Jacob, you are the oldest, so you will choose first.”

Jacob uncrosses his arms and takes slow deliberate steps until he’s standing in front of Earl. He just stands there, looking down at the unflinching sheriff. He clasps his hand around Earl’s bicep and squeezes tightly, nodding seemingly in approval.

Next, he approaches Joey. She stares straight forward, at his chest, hands fidgeting with the restraints on her wrists. He places one hand on her shoulder and the other clasps her chin between thumb and forefinger. He forces her head up so that she is looking at him, and he turns her face from side to side, examining her. He shakes his head and moves on to Staci.

Though Staci’s blood runs cold in his veins and sweat drips from his brow, he stands with his shoulders back and looks dead center into Jacob’s cold eyes. “Well, well. If it isn’t Deputy Peaches,” Jacob says, his tone dark and dangerous.

Staci gathers saliva in his mouth, though, it’s difficult due to the dryness. He spits at the older Seed’s face. Jacob growls low, deep inside his throat and lifts his hand to wipe the moisture from his cheek. Jacob scowls down at him, and Staci tries not to shake as the veteran fists the collar of his shirt within both hands and lifts the deputy until they’re at eye level with each other, Staci’s toes barely grazing the dirt beneath him.

“Mercy’s not here to protect you anymore.” _Where is she? What did you do to her, you monster?_ He wants to shout, but his mouth refuses to form the words. _I knew it. I was right about you all along._ “You’re _weak_ , and the weak must be _culled_.” He drops Staci, knees scraping against the dirt when he lands. “You’ll understand that soon enough.” Jacob turns to Joseph and points down at Staci. “I’ll take this one.”

“As you wish, brother,” Joseph says, “John?”

Jacob takes his place next to his siblings as John immediately approaches Joey. The look in the young brother’s eyes as he circles her and scrutinizes every part of her sends a sickening feeling bubbling in Staci’s gut as he pushes himself back up to standing. When John is standing in front of her once more, he lightly grazes his thumb against the purple bruise forming at her throat. He cards his fingers through Joey’s hair, going down to caress her braid through his hand. He’s standing so close to her that he could kiss her.

Suddenly, Joey jerks her knee up, hitting John between his legs. The younger brother grunts as he hunches forward. Two Peggies close their hands around Joey’s arms, and they kick the back of her legs so that she falls to the ground.

John pulls himself up, laughing as if someone had told him a joke. “Oh, you’re a fighter, aren’t you?” he says, grabbing her head roughly between his hands and forcing her gaze up to his. “Are you sure you don’t want _her_ , Jacob? She could serve you well.”

“She’s too wild, she’ll never submit to me.”

“That’s true,” John replies, releasing her from his grasp. “She could do with a little breaking in.”

“I take it you want her then, John?” Joseph asks.

“Yes,” John answers, “She will know absolution the likes of which she’s never known before.”

“Good,” Joseph says.

Faith laughs, approaching the sheriff and taking his bound hands within her own free hands. “You will be with me and the marshal then, Sheriff Whitehorse.” She cups his cheek with her delicate hand, thumb stroking his cheekbone. “I promise you, you will never know sorrow for the rest of your days.”

“It is done then,” Joseph says. “I want you to teach these sinners the way of the Father. Show them the love and acceptance and care of their new Family, of which I have shown to you. Show them the Paths they must walk. And when the time comes, they will march with us through the Gates of Eden.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really hard time with this chapter so please comment if there's anything wrong with it. Also remember to kudos and bookmark it if you want to see more. I'm really enjoying writing this!


	4. Mercy Seed II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all!
> 
> Be warned this chapter has a some suicidal ideation in it. Read with caution.

**July 17, 2008 – 5:45 AM**

Mercy wakes early that morning and opens her fridge, searching for the bait she’d bought from Dylan’s. When she finally finds it, she steps out onto her porch. She carries her fishing pole, bait, and tackle box in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in her other hand. She steadily walks the short distance to the shore of the lake, reveling in the serenity of the world waking up. She breathes in deep from her nose, the spicy scent of the flora filling her senses. The sky is glowing a brilliant amber and lavender as the sun begins to rise over the Whitetails, and though there is a slight chill nipping at her skin she feels her heart calm in the tranquility as the birds sing their first songs for the day.

As she leans down to lay her pole, bait, and box in the dirt, she hears a splash.

As she stands back up and instinctually looks toward the sound, she sees a tuft of red just on the surface of the water. She wonders if it’s a fox or maybe even a dog, when it stands, and it only takes her brain a few milliseconds to register that it’s a man in the water. A half-naked man.

Mercy screams, dropping her coffee and running back to her cabin. She slams the door behind her and locks it. She’d been so surprised by him, that it’s the only thing she thinks to do. Her heart is hammering so hard in her chest that it’s the only thing she can hear. She pulls the blinds down over the window on her door and leans back against the hard surface, breathing deeply. She would’ve rather he been a dog, a bear, fucking _anything_ but another person!

And what is he even doing swimming in the lake at almost six in the morning? The water is so fucking freezing this early, how can he even stand it? She’s sure he hadn’t been wearing any swim trunks, either, when he’d stood in the waist high water. His chest had been covered in ginger hair, and she’d seen the sloping muscles on his lower stomach leading downwards towards… Mercy groans, shoving her face in her hands as she feels her cheeks heat up.

She squeaks when the door is rattled by a firm knock. She turns around and pushes the blinds open with her fingers, so she can peek out. _Oh Lord he’s tall_ , is her first thought when she sees him staring down at her, his face so…unmoving, almost mechanical. But his eyes capture hers, his cobalt gaze seemingly revealing to her so much about the person he is without her being able to describe how that’s possible. His red hair is slicked back from the water on the top of his head with the sides shaved, and he sports a full beard like every other man in Hope County. And his face is covered in bumpy scars.

“I can see you looking at me,” he says simply, his voice rasping and deep and sending a shiver down her spine. She doesn’t answer, not that she could even if she tries. Her eyes travel across the rest of his body, cringing a little when she sees the rashes riddled across his arms, some being faded marks while others are open indents against his skin. _Those look like they hurt._ The rest of his body is covered in scars too: bullet wounds, cuts from what could’ve been from knives, a few faint welts here and there. Her heart jumps in her throat when her eyes travel lower and sees the towel hanging loosely around his hips. “You like what you see?” Her gaze snaps back up to his face, and she sees the smirk playing at his lips.

After a few more seconds of her not saying anything, he lifts a hand. “ _You deaf?_ ” Mercy widens her eyes when he signs. That’s certainly something she’s not used to seeing. She hasn’t encountered very many strangers that know sign language. He sighs through his nose at her repeated silence. “Look I’m done with the lake. You can go back to your fishing now.” And then he just walks away, back to the house next door.

_What was…what?_ He’d stepped on her porch in nothing but a towel, teased her a little, let her know that he was finished swimming and then walked off as if it were completely normal. Just left without introducing himself or trying to deflate the odd circumstances of their meeting.

He really is very tall compared to her. From what she saw through the window of him she guesses she might reach about chest height on him, maybe even a little lower. Her blood quickens when she remembers how toned he is. His muscles look like they’d been carved by Adonis himself. He’s intimidating, and she’d be lying if she said he doesn’t scare her. She should just stay away from him, just as everyone tells her to do. She didn’t move here to make any friends, and she doesn’t care about hurting her neighbor’s feelings by not ever talking to him or learning his name.

Mercy hisses when her grandmother’s voice echoes through her mind, chastising her for her antisocial behavior and for judging this man unfairly before she’s even truly met him. Her grandmother hadn’t taught Mercy to lock herself up in her house and close herself off from the world. Mercy knows what it’s like to be wrongly judged. And if she’s going to call Hope County her home, she really should have a circle of people she can trust.

She shakes her head as her heart begins to pound against her ribs, taking quick deep breaths. In her quest to find something else to focus on, his voice dominates her thoughts, and no matter how hard she tries she cannot shake the feeling it had sent surging through her. He’d only spoken four sentences to her – _four!_ – and still they resonate within her on an endless loop. It’s obvious that he’s either forgotten or is simply not used to the standards of polite conversation. And the tone of his voice – so low and soft yet commanding as though the lake were _his_ and he was giving her _permission_ to use it – is what sticks with her the most, though she’s not sure she can explain why that is.

Mercy sighs, plucking up all the courage she can within her and slowly unlocking and cracking the door open. She knows it’s silly and that he’s returned to his cabin, but she can’t help the fear that grips her nerves, her untrusting nature ultimately shining through. Determined to cast him from her thoughts completely, she opens the door the rest of the way only to see her coffee mug (now empty) sitting on the railing of her porch.

She’s completely confused now. Had he brought it back for her? That was…unexpected of him. Thoughtful, even. She walks out and gingerly picks the mug up, glancing at his cabin. _Perhaps there’s more man in the monster than everyone thinks,_ Mercy wonders.

**March 29, 2018 – 2:09 PM**

Mercy slowly blinks awake, a sharp pain throbbing on her forehead. Her body is sore, and she moves her hand to try and massage her side only to find that she’s been handcuffed to the railing of the bed she’s lying in. She looks around the room, the florescent bulb on the ceiling giving her a headache. She still has one hand free, so she lifts it to her head, fingertips lightly grazing the edge of a bandage wrapped around her head and moves to sit up.

She appears to be in a first aid room. There is a long desk right next to her bed that has all kinds of medicine situated on the top of it. There’s a ham radio on it, as well. She thinks that she might be in a bunker, the concrete walls reminding her of Jacob’s bunker and the smaller prepper’s bunker they’d made behind their cabin.

She wracks her brain, trying to figure out how she got here. Everything is so…hazy. She remembers the helicopter crash and all the running she’d done. She remembers her fight with Burke and the car chase that’d happened. Then John had dropped a bomb on them, so she drove the truck off the bridge. After that, there’s nothing.

Mercy’s heart lodges itself into her throat. Where is she? Is she in one of the Eden’s Gate bunkers? Her blood quickens. What are they going to do to her? As her breathing accelerates, she looks around the room. She spots a small black trash can, and her free hand jerks it towards herself. She pukes into the bin.

An older man enters the room a short while after that, and she feels only a little relieved when she notices he’s not a Peggie. In fact, she actually knows who he is. _Richard Roosevelt._ Though, she knows that he mainly goes by Dutch. He’d gone to jail back in 2014 for collecting rainwater without a permit. She and Jacob had read the article in the paper and agreed with Dutch in his stance. She’d even told him as much when she’d been set to guard him.

However, Mercy still finds herself shaking in his presence. She doesn’t have any clue what he plans to do with her, and he’s still a stranger. Plus, it’s no secret that he absolutely _loathes_ all things Eden’s Gate. Is he going to torture her? Kill her? She tries to pull herself as far away from him as possible.

He must sense her apprehension because he holds a hand up, offering her a glass of water she hadn’t noticed he’s holding. “Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.” She swallows past her dry throat wearily glancing at the water he’s offering her. She reaches out a shaky hand, takes the glass, and gulps it down fast. “Yep. You’re Jacob Seed’s wife alright. Anyone else would’ve taken longer to wake up, especially if they had a concussion.” He pulls up a chair and sits down next to her bed. “But look at you, barely seventeen hours after the shit’s hit the fan, and you’re fully conscious.”

Mercy ignores the way her heart aches at the mention of Jacob. She sighs, setting the empty glass on the desk next to her.

Dutch reaches across the desk and grabs a notepad and pen, holding them out for her. “Let me ask you a few questions. Make sure your memory’s still good.” She accepts the notepad and situates it on her lap, nodding to him in understanding. “Where do you live?”

She clicks the button at the top of the pen and writes, and he keeps his eyes on the letters she makes, _Hope County, Montana._

“What is your name?”

_Mercy Seed._

“How old are you?”

_30._

“Do you remember what year it is?”

_2018._

Dutch nods in approval. “Do you know what’s happened?” This time Mercy looks up at him, shaking her head slowly. “Well, first off, you’ve probably figured out you’re in a bunker. My bunker. All of the roads leading out of the County have been blocked off, the phone lines have been cut, and there are no signals coming in or going out of the valley.” Mercy can feel herself shrinking beneath this man’s resolute gaze. “Eden’s Gate has been waiting for something to trigger this ‘Great Collapse’ they’re always going on about, and you sure as shit gave it to ‘em, Deputy.”

She can see it deep in his eyes, the blame he’s placing on her. The guilt presses down on her obstinately, and it feels as though the blood in her veins has completely drained from her. She can’t bring herself to keep eye contact with him, turning her face to the side to hide her shame.

Dutch leans forward in his chair, hands folding together as he rests his elbows on his knees. “I should’ve just left you out there when I found you washed up on the shore. I should just give you over to them or leave you out there to fend for yourself.” She remains silent while he continues to look at her. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking. He sighs heavily. “Whose side are you on?”

She isn’t entirely sure how to answer that. Her whole world has been flipped upside down, and she still feels like she’s falling endlessly through space. She wonders if she’ll feel this lost for the rest of her life. _I don’t know,_ she writes.

“Joseph, John, Jacob, Faith: What are they to you now?”

_I don’t know._

“How are you going to make this right?”

Her breathing comes in short bursts, and she clutches the pen tightly in her fist. _I don-_ Suddenly, Mercy’s back in the water, lungs burning for air. If she doesn’t make it to the surface soon, she’s going to die. She looks up, but she’s so far under that the light of the moon can’t even reach her. She flails her arms, trying to swim up, but a hand grasps tightly to her ankle. She looks down, seeing that John has a hold of her, and she’s being pulled by him ever downwards, his sadistic grin making her stomach churn. Arms wrap around her shoulders and arms, keeping her from trying to propel herself upwards.

“Please, don’t leave me here, sister. I want you to stay here with me forever. In the deep, in the dark, in the cold,” Faith whispers sweetly into her ear.

Mercy tries to lift her left hand to try and claw at Faith’s arms, but something wraps around her wrist and bites into her flesh. When she looks, a cast iron cuff is locked around her wrist, and at the end of a long chain Jacob is attached at the neck. He tries to pull the chain loose, but his fingers keep slipping. Mercy’s heartbeat pounds all around her as she tries to pull the chain free from him.

Cold fingers tighten around her neck, and bubbles escape from her mouth as she sobs, looking in front of her to see Joseph, the Father, his eyes full of contempt. “No one is coming to save you.” And he squeezes her windpipe shut.

_I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!_

“Mercy, just breathe.”

She’s back in Dutch’s bunker again, her hand clawing into her chest. She gasps for air, looking down at her feet, her wrist, over her shoulder, feeling at her neck. “Breathe,” Dutch says, his tone surprisingly gentle. Mercy nods to let him know she heard, and she straightens her shoulders, only just now aware that she’s only in her panties and a sports bra. She pulls the blanket up to cover herself.

Dutch just stares at her, his gaze boring into her. His eyes travel across her face before sighing and leaning back in his chair. “Fuck…” He abruptly stands and leaves the room, returning a few seconds later with the key to the handcuffs. He releases her from her bindings, and she hugs her knees to her chest, massaging her sore wrist lightly.

“You’re suffering from a concussion. I stitched up your head wound the best that I could, but it’ll leave a scar. Though, I’m sure that’s the least of your worries. Under any other circumstance, I’d tell you to rest, but we don’t have that kind of time,” He tells her. She doesn’t acknowledge him, just hugs her knees tighter, resting her chin on top of them. “I had to burn your uniform, but I have some clothes in a locker in the room across from this one that you can use. Once you get your clothes, go to the end of the hall, turn right, and the second door on the left is a kitchen. Past the kitchen is a bathroom. Clean yourself up and see me in that first door in that same hallway when you’re done.”

Mercy nods her understanding, and he leaves her to her privacy. Once his footsteps have faded, she swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands up. Her vision goes wobbly for a moment, and she has to lean against the desk, but it only takes a few seconds for that to ease up. She hobbles into the room across from hers, body screaming in agony with every movement.

There are framed medals of service and a flag folded into a triangle hanging on the wall next to a bed. She examines the etchings underneath the unfolded flag on the left wall, right next to a radio. _The world is a diagonal… I am the balancing point._ Mercy lightly traces the letters with a fingertip before turning away and going to the open locker to her right. She picks out a camo tank top, a brown pair of cargo pants, and a pair of shoes she hopes will be small enough to fit her feet.

She follows Dutch’s instructions, finding the bathroom right where he’d said it’d be. She enters, closing and locking the door behind her. It’s not a big bathroom, but there’s a shower and that’s good enough for her. She turns on the water and turns to the mirror to remove the bandages around her head. When her forehead is free, she winces and tenderly caresses around the stitches. On her hips and lower stomach, she can see bruises forming from the seatbelt in the helicopter. Any other person would be thankful that they’d made it out of that situation with the minimal amount of injuries, but Mercy just feels…numb. As though she isn’t even alive. Her thumb worries the surface of her rings.

Mercy removes her bra and panties, and sighs happily when she steps into the scalding water. Her muscles sing in relief as the liquid washes over her, cleansing her outsides of the sins that she’d committed the night before. She leans her head against the wall as the water kisses her skin like raindrops.

Once she’s clean, she dresses. The pants sag down on her hips, and she has to tighten the belt to the last notch in order for the pants to rest on them snuggly. The shoes are also too big for her. She tightens the laces until they’re practically cutting off the blood circulation in her feet, but it’s still very uncomfortable. She’ll need to find new shoes when she leaves… If Dutch allows her to leave.

When she leaves the bathroom, the heavenly scent of bacon and eggs fills her nostrils, and she’s suddenly very aware of how hungry she is. She goes into the kitchen, eyes instantly finding the steaming food waiting for her on a plate on the table. She sits down, sighing as she bites into her bacon. Tears sting her eyes then, and as she swallows, fat droplets leak from her eyes down her cheeks. She continues to wolf down her breakfast/late lunch, even as her heart cries out for her to just starve herself to death, she doesn’t deserve to live, this is all her fault.

Mercy washes her plate when she’s finished. She owes Dutch so much more than a clean plate, but still she can’t help but be a little angry with him. He should have just killed her, put a bullet in her brain. She shakes the thoughts from her head, setting the dish aside once it’s dried.

She backtracks out of the kitchen, to the room he’d instructed her to meet him in. The room is bathed in a red glow, and papers are strewn across the floor. Blurry pictures of other areas around the island are displayed on the TVs in the right corner of the room, where Dutch is trying and failing to contact others on a radio.

Mercy turns to the map on the wall to the left of her. Pictures of her family are spread on the different corners of the map. Underneath each picture is a report detailing what each of them is responsible for. The Baptist, the Siren, the Soldier, the Father – she can’t even wrap her head around anything she’s reading. Dutch even has a picture of _her_ along with a briefing. The Soldier’s Bride, he’s called her. It seems as though Dutch has known about all of this for years, and that only serves to make Mercy feel more stupid that she hadn’t realized any of this was happening.

“C’mere, Deputy,” Dutch says, and she turns to him. “We need to talk.” She approaches him, and he picks up a bundle of bandages off his desk. He begins redressing the wound on her head. “I’ve been trying to figure out what’s going on on the surface while you were sleeping. I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that your partners are still alive. The bad news is they’ve each been given to a different member of your family.” Mercy shudders. She can’t even begin to imagine what they’re going through right now. A month ago, she didn’t believe her family could hurt a fly, and just yesterday they’d crashed her helicopter and dropped bombs on her head in a matter of minutes.

“Now, I know you’ll wanna get them back. I get it, I have people who’ve been taken too,” he tells her as he finishes patching her up. He sighs. “There’s no one coming to help us, though.” _No one is coming to save you._ “But I’m not going to just lay down and take it. We need to show the people of Hope County that they can fight back. We need to start a resistance.” He crosses his arms, looking down on her sternly. “Now, I’m not asking you to join up or anything, but this island is completely overrun by Peggies. They’ve been lookin’ for you all night, and your family…They’re not just going to accept you back with open arms. They’ll be sure to make you bleed first for your betrayal.”

Mercy’s hands tighten into fists at her sides and she looks to the floor. “All I’m saying is, your chances will be better with the Resistance. I’ll give you some time to decide, but right now we need to liberate this island so that we can figure out the next step.” She nods though honestly, she can’t bring herself to care. She just wants to lay down and die.

“There’s a gun and a map in the safe over there,” Dutch says, pointing to said safe (already open) on the wall behind her. He picks up a radio from the desk, and she recognizes that it’s actually hers. “Take ‘em. I’ll give you a call on your radio once you get your bearings. And don’t worry, I know Morse code, most people in Hope County do. So, I’ll be able to understand you if you use those buttons on your radio.”

She walks over to the safe and pulls out the map first, shoving it in her back pocket. Next is the gun, and she holds it, the weight like a boulder in her palms. She swallows thickly. She remembers killing that Peggie while she was running, bashed his head in with a baseball bat. Bile creeps up her throat. Other people were dead too now, because of her. People are being forcibly taken while their homes are being destroyed, going through torture after torture, and it’s all her fault. How many more people will she have to kill before this is all over? She lets out a shaky breath, her bottom lip quivering, while she shoves the gun in the waistband of her jeans.

“Be careful out there,” she hears Dutch say, his tone a little worried, though she’s knows it can’t be for her. “The island is crawlin’ with Peggies, and they’re willing to die for your brother-in-law.”

**…**

“Hey, Deputy! I’m getting a strong signal now…” Dutch says through the static in the reception on her radio. Mercy stands at the top of the radio tower, looking out over the fog engulfing the County while the strong wind whips her hair around. Above it all the Father’s statue stands proud over the clouds, and she can practically feel the judgement from His gaze on her. She stands on the edge of the platform, silent while Dutch goes over the different regions of Hope County. It only makes her heart hurt. She’s caused so much pain. She’s not sure she can handle much more.

“The fog should be clearing soon,” Dutch tells her, “You’ll be able to leave the island soon, and go on your way. So, sit tight. It shouldn’t take much longer.”

Mercy inches closer to the edge of the platform, her vision dizzying as she looks over the edge. Regret swirls in the base of her stomach over her betraying her family, along with the overwhelming guilt that’s consuming her over Hope County’s fate. She glances back up at the statue, His arm extended out to her, pleading for her to return to them. She feels her resolve breaking, piece by agonizing piece. Her body aches with the want, the _need_ , to fall on her knees before her family and beg their forgiveness.

She looks down at her hands, her engagement and wedding bands reflecting the light of the sun. No matter how hard she scrubbed her hands, dirt and blood still clung beneath her nails. Her skin is scorching, the blood from her victims having seeped into her pores, she’s sure.

Mercy looks back to the earth, leagues below her. She could jump. It’d be easy. Only a few seconds of falling before she splatters against the hard dirt. She’d die instantly she’s certain, and no one would mourn the loss of her.

She closes her eyes, and in the brief moment before she jumps, she sees her father. His dirty blonde hair shines in the late afternoon sun. He’s smiling at her, an open and honest smile, a smile she’d forgotten over the years. His blue eyes shine as he stares down at her. He reaches out to her, his hands tan and weathered from years of labor.

Mercy cries out, the force of her sob sending her sprawling backwards, butt hitting the hard metal of the platform. With tears blurring her vision and hands shaking, she curls up in a ball on the small platform. She’s bawling like a newborn, but she’s too lost in her grief to feel embarrassed. The pain and anger and regret surrounds her, suffocating her as her world crumbles around her. She keeps her eyes screwed tight, the image of her father helping her in finding the air she needs.

When she’s finally regained control of her breathing, Dutch calls over the radio. “Deputy, I’m pickin’ up something new outta Holland Valley. It’s a broadcast from John… You need to see this. Come back to the bunker.”

She ignores him, tapping out a message with her buttons. “ _Why did you save me?_ ”

Dutch is silent on the other end for a moment before responding, “I know what Eden’s Gate is like, and I couldn’t leave you laying there on the shore in good conscience, knowing what they’d do to you.”

Mercy whimpers as more tears well up at the edge of her eyes. “ _I wish you hadn’t saved me._ ”

Her radio beeps and it sounds like he’s trying to figure out what to say before he sighs. “I know.”

“ _I’m burning from the inside, and I don’t know how to make it stop._ ” He remains silent as she types out her next message. “ _Do I even deserve life?_ ”

“Come back to the bunker, Mercy,” he says in answer.

And she does. She slowly climbs down the ladders and walks back to the bunker, feet dragging in the dirt and shoulders sagging. When she returns, the door is open, waiting for her. She descends into the darkness, looking through each doorway until she finds Dutch in the same room he’d been in when she’d left.

She stands by Dutch’s side, and he jerks his head to one of the TV screens before pointing a remote and pressing a button.

“We are all sinners. Every one of us.” Mercy’s blood runs cold when she sees John’s face on the screen, eyes gazing out as if he can see her right now. “You. Me. Even the Father knows deeply of sin. It’s a poison that clouds our minds.” The camera’s angle changes as he slowly walks down a red carpet riddled with white flowers and sins written across it. “What if I told you, you could be free from sin? What if I told you that everything you ever dreamed could come true? What if I told you that everything could be overcome if you embraced an idea: That freedom from sin can come from the power of just one word…”

John lifts his arms, the camera panning upwards showing a shining sign. “YES!” she hears a group of people yell off screen and applaud. The camera changes again, and Mercy gasps, placing a hand over her chest, when she sees Joey. Her hands are bound in front of her with zip ties, and duct tape covers her mouth. Her makeup is running down her cheeks, and Mercy can feel the burning hatred radiating within her as she glares at the camera.

“Yes, I am a sinner. Yes, I wish to be unburdened,” John says circling around to Joey’s other side and holding her around her shoulders. “Yes…I must be redeemed.” He reaches with his other hand and delicately strokes his fingers around her neck. The gesture is so tender that it makes Mercy sick to her stomach. He smirks at the camera, seemingly knowing that he’s making Mercy uncomfortable wherever she may be.

“If you’re watching this, know that you have been selected. You will be cleansed. You will confess your sins, and you will be offered atonement.” He lets go of Joey and walks towards the camera, and Mercy knows, can see it in the clear blue of his eyes, that he _is_ speaking directly to her. “Don’t worry you don’t have to do anything. We’ll come for you. Welcome to Eden’s Gate.”

And it’s over, just like that, though the sickly feeling still rumbles in Mercy’s stomach. Dutch is silent, letting her take in what she’s just seen. “Deputy Hudson isn’t the only one who’s suffering right now. The marshal and Earl are out wondering in the Bliss fields in the Henbane River, and your husband has Deputy Pratt.”

Her heart drops. She doesn’t want to think about what type of horrors they’re going through because of what she’s done. Tears streak down her cheeks as she folds and tightens her hands in front of her chest, not caring that Dutch is staring right at her as she breaks.

“You know, I enlisted in the military in 1971, a few days after I turned eighteen. I was shipped out to Vietnam right after basic training. The war lasted about four more years after that, but I’d already seen too much. I did things that I’ll never be able to take back, saw things I’ll never be able to unsee. Those types of wounds…” He sighs. “Those types of wounds don’t ever really heal.”

Mercy nods. She knows he’s right. She’d sometimes wake up late at night to Jacob crying out in his sleep. When she’d wake him up, he’d cling to her as if she’d sink into the ground and be lost to him forever. Hell, she clung to him too when she had her own nightmares.

“My son, he left the state a couple years back after I’d tried to teach my grandson how to shoot. I felt…betrayed by him, for a while. Then I realized that it was really all my fault he’d left,” Dutch says. “I won’t lie to you, you’re probably going to feel that burning deep inside you for a long time.” He cups her shoulder in his hand, turning her so that she is looking at him. “But these people…Joey, Earl, and Staci…All of the people in Hope County…They _need_ you, Mercy.”

She scoffs, jerking her gaze away from him. She’s just one person. No one will trust her. Her family has likely turned their back on her. She’s all alone.

“Come on, Deputy,” Dutch says, gripping her chin and pulling her face back. “You can lay down and die if you want, but where does that leave the rest of us. We’re _all_ hurting because of this. You can do right by these people. _Lead_ the Resistance. _Save_ them.”

Mercy looks down at her hands, a finger gently caressing her rings. She closes her eyes, remembering her father’s smiling face…Her grandmother…Jacob…

She clenches her hands into fists. Her father had risked and ultimately lost his life to save her. Her grandmother had taught her to never give up, no matter how bad things were getting. And Jacob…he’d shown her just how strong she really is. Staci and Earl and Joey, even Burke, she can’t just leave them behind. She will not abandon her family, either. Or the Peggies. She _will_ save the people of Hope County. _All_ the people of Hope County.

Mercy looks to Dutch and nods resolutely.

“Atta girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment,kudos, and bookmark! I'm really enjoying writing this and your enjoyment gives me life.


	5. Jacob Seed II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little peek at what's happening in the Whitetail Mountains right now. I'm so happy with the response this fic is getting! I honestly was afraid that no one would like it, but I'm glad that y'all are liking it so far.
> 
> Please comment, kudos, and bookmark, it helps keep my motivation up.

**July 22, 2008 – 11:21 PM**

Jacob has taken to watching his new neighbor from the darkness of his cabin. Like him, she’s an early riser on most days, and she’ll usually sit on the steps of her porch sipping on a mug of coffee. She does laundry regularly and keeps her yard clean. He’s seen her weeding out the empty flowerbeds around her cabin and preparing the soil for new plants. She’s really settling in, and Jacob’s aggravated that he’ll have to get used to having a neighbor.

He assumes she has a job because she leaves and returns at the same time every day. Her skin has tanned too, so it’s a job that requires her to be outdoors. On her days off, though, she doesn’t go anywhere. Not that there’s anything exciting to do in Hope County anyways. Much to his relief, no one’s visited her cabin, so she doesn’t have any friends.

He also doesn’t think she’s used to this kind of living, out in the wilderness. The small shed behind her house meant for winter wood storage is empty. Her antics when she’d caught a salmon for the first time had almost made him smile. He’d watched from one of the windows as she cut open the belly of her fish, sticking her tongue out and gagging. When it came time to gut the fish, she’d run to vomit in the bushes. She’d even had to pace two full circles around her cabin before she’d been ready to cut off its head.

This makes Jacob wonder, why exactly did she even come here? It seems like she’d be more at home in the city. She’s pretty, young…delicate…definitely not made for this lifestyle.

However, he will admit that she doesn’t seem to give up on anything she starts. That night his mouth had watered when he smelled her cooking that fish from her cabin. She doesn’t seem to mind waiting a couple hours for a fish to bite her line, either.

She’s also quite the audiophile, he’s noticed. When she has her window open, he can hear her playing music, though not very loudly. He’s heard her play alternative, rock, dance music. He’s even heard her play the Eden’s Gate radio station once or twice. He’s heard disco the most, though, and he hopes she never meets Sharky Boshaw. Jacob wouldn’t be able to stand living next door to her if she had that fucking moron visiting all the damn time, or God forbid his even more idiotic cousin. He doesn’t mind her playing her music, though. He finds the music just distracting enough to keep him from being alone with his thoughts.

Every so often, Jacob catches himself wondering what exactly it would be like if he introduced himself to her. Just the thought of presenting himself to her has him surprised, simply because it’s so unlike him to want to do so. However, he remembers the look of disgust in her intense violet eyes when she’d seen the scars on his body. Particularly the ones on his arms. He’d seen the way she’d squinted as she scrutinized every one of his scars, and he knows she’d rather not see him ever again.

So, instead he’ll just leave her alone, not wanting to deal with another painful encounter with another human being.

When she’d caught him bathing in the lake, he’d been just as surprised to see her as she’d been surprised to see him. He’s sure the reason why she’d turned tail and ran, even screamed, was because of what everyone in town had no doubt told her about him. How he never speaks to anyone, how malicious and violent he is, how children see him as a monster. Whatever’d made her run, he’d taken it as a thing to be prideful over. He is strong, and she _should_ be afraid of him. He’d stay away from her as long as she stayed away from him.

And Jacob will not stop bathing in the lake no matter her discomfort. The lake was his long before she’d shown up, if not in name. He will not change his schedule to avoid her. If she has a problem with it, she can move.

One night after his second swim of the day as he’s making his way through the tree line back to his cabin, he sees a small campfire set up between his and her property. His neighbor is there sitting in a lawn chair, wearing an open plaid shirt with a t-shirt underneath and a pair of ripped shorts. She obviously hasn’t noticed his approach, so he takes the opportunity to observe her, moving to hide behind one of the trees and peeking out at her.

It’s the first time he’s really gotten a good look at her face, and he studies her for a moment. Thick eyebrows arch above her sharp eyes, and her nose is long and broad, perfectly shaped for her face. Her mouth is a little wide and most assuredly bow-shaped. They’re full too, though her bottom lip in particular is poutier than her upper lip.

As he hides, watching her, she sighs deeply. She breathes in long and lets the breath out slow, looking as though the world is lying heavy on her shoulders. He wonders again why she’s here in the mountains of Hope County, fishing for salmon and living the life of a hermit. She’s young and beautiful and ready for life to serve her opportunities on a silver platter.

She’s a puzzle to him, one that he never plans on trying to solve.

A low hum flutters through the air, and Jacob glances around the area for a radio that might be playing the slow tune. Then he realizes it’s coming from her. She doesn’t have the strongest or prettiest voice. Despite this, he still finds himself completely enchanted by her melody. The song at times sounds hopeful then will fade into lower more depressing sounding notes. Her voice cracks as she sings, and he can’t bring himself to look away from her. As she continues to hum, he sees the firelight shining in the tears pooling just at the rim of her eyes. She ends her song on a low soft note, closing her eyes and letting the tears drift down her cheeks.

She opens her eyes and stares into the fire for a moment before standing up and kicking dirt over the fire. She grabs a bucket next to her chair and walks through the tree line towards the lake. Jacob keeps himself hidden in the shadows as she collects some water and walks back to the campfire, dousing the remaining ashes. Then she folds and collects her chair, leaving it on her porch before going inside and shutting the door behind her.

He feels strangely staggered by what he’s just seen. He’d just caught her in an incredibly vulnerable moment, and he doesn’t know what to make of it. She’s most obviously sad, but there’d been something else hidden deep within the depths of her violet gaze. Is she angry? Grieving? Could she possibly be missing someone?

Jacob shakes his head. It doesn’t matter to him what she’s feeling. She doesn’t matter, she is nothing to him. She is _weak_ , and he is _strong_.

**March 29, 2018 – 3:23 PM**

The Reaping is going exactly as planned. They’d started during the night, claiming businesses, capturing citizens, building their structures all in the name of the Father. They were met with little to no resistance, taking everyone by surprise.

Jacob stands in the courtyard of the Grand View Hotel, watching as his men fortify and “redecorate” the building to his liking. This place will be the starting point for his new recruits on their path to enlightenment. Here they will start their journey, learn their true purpose in the new world coming for them.

He glances to his left, towards the cages. A few prisoners have already been collected, and it’s there they will wait until they’re starving and thirsty and dying, until they’re able to take to his conditioning. When Joseph had approached Jacob on what he must to do, he’d been beside himself with indecision. He had just started his relationship with Mercy and it was all still new and confusing for him. She’d made him feel _normal_ , a person deserving of love and kindness the likes of which he’d only experienced from his brothers. And he knew she’d never approve of what Joseph wanted from him.

But Jacob knows his purpose. He knows what he truly is. He’s known for many years. He is a tool, a weapon, with the sole purpose of protecting his younger brothers. One day he hopes that Mercy will see and understand this. He’ll help her realize her own purpose, and he’ll be there to comfort and guide her when she discovers it.

Jacob moves between the cages until he finds the one with his most prized prisoner. “Deputy Peaches,” Jacob tsks, shaking his head. “You look a little beat up today.”

He can still feel the ache in his knuckles as he looks down at the bruised and bloodied deputy, huddled in a far corner in the cage. The other prisoners with him have kept to their own side, far away knowing that Jacob takes a special interest in him. Jacob had beat him when he spoke out of turn. The prick had been screaming at him, calling him a wifebeater, a bastard, a murderer. Finally, Jacob had become annoyed and warned him that if he didn’t shut up, he would beat the deputy until he passed out.

Well, he’d warned the idiot, so he’d been beaten until his face was unrecognizable from the bruises and swelling. Peaches had been huddled beside himself since, pale as a ghost and shaking like a tree.

“Many of my recruits come to me just as you are,” Jacob says. “Lost and afraid. You can take comfort in knowing that it won’t be _me_ that kills you.” He waits for the deputy to say something, but he’s pleasantly quiet. Jacob continues, “It can be hard knowing your purpose, confusing. You’ll go through life thinking one thing, then it hits you all of a sudden. We’re all just tools, whose lives hold no meaning.” He smirks, pointing at the broken man on the floor. “You won’t need to worry about that, though. You’re _weak_. Your only purpose is to be culled, so that the strong can survive.”

Peaches’ eyes snap to his, wide and wild, as he snarls, “Fuck you. I’ll kill you.”

Jacob just chuckles, keeping their gazes connected. “Now, I’ll truly be impressed if that happens, but we both know you won’t be able to do it.” He puffs up his shoulders, hands steepling in front of his chest. “You see, _Deputy Pratt_ ,” he spits, as if the man’s name is a deadly poison, “you’re all talk. You talk a big game about killing and hurting me but look at you. You’re stuck in a cage, all alone, curled up in a ball. You say you want to protect your friends, but you just stood there and watched while Miss Hudson was taking the butt of a rifle to her neck.

“And my wife- “Jacob’s vision goes red as he tightens his fist around an iron bar, knuckles going white. “-she got _shot_ because of you. If my brother didn’t think you were so important to the Project, I would kill you for your negligence.”

“Fuck you!” Peaches croaks, standing and rushing to the bars. He reaches through, gathering Jacob’s collar in his fist. “Where’s Mercy? What did you do to her?”

A Peggie lifts his weapon, aiming at the deputy. Jacob waves his hand dismissively at his soldier. “That’s none of your concern.” With a practiced efficiency, Jacob pinches Peaches between the thumb and forefinger, reaches up with his other hand, and grabs ahold of his thumb. With a twist and a crack, the appendage is broken. Peaches cries out, jerking his hand back in the cage, and holding his thumb as he kneels to the ground.

“Mercy is a bleeding heart. She doesn’t understand the importance in what we’re doing,” he says as the deputy continues to sob. “But she will. She’s a _strong_ woman, surrounded by weak men. Weak men like you, and I’m not just talking about strength. You have no backbone or honor.” Jacob crouches down. “And you see, we just can’t have that around here. Eden has no room for people like you.”

Peaches spits at his feet, and Jacob just scoffs. “You couldn’t possibly understand. You’re _weak_. It’s my responsibility to see you culled so the herd stays strong.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Peaches groans, “If you’re gonna kill me, then do it.”

Jacob smirks. “Like I said, Deputy, it won’t be me that kills you.”


	6. Mercy Seed III

**July 23, 2008 - 8:03 AM**

Mercy wakes up early, as is her habit now, and makes herself a cup of coffee. She pulls on an old pair of skinny jeans and a pale blue button up shirt before grabbing her mug and going outside to sit on the steps of her porch.

She tilts her head back and breathes in. She can smell the forest all around her, the scent of the damp earth consuming and calming her. None of the sounds she’s used to can be heard out here. There are no screeching tires or traffic noises; sometimes there’s the low hum of an airplane; surprisingly, she doesn’t even hear the distant popping of gunshots. The only things she hears are the chirping of the birds around her, the rustling of the water from the lake, and the wind as it blows through the leaves of the trees. _This place is heaven on Earth._ She’s completely entranced by the beauty around her, and she knows that she’ll never love any place as much as she loves Hope County, she’s sure of it.

She turns to her left, lips parting slightly as her eyes land on the desolate cabin belonging to her neighbor. She strains to listen for any sound that might be coming from his cabin, but sadly there is nothing. Just the silence she’s grown accustomed to.

Mercy sighs.

She still doesn’t know anything about him, not even his name, and it’s been eating away at her day in and day out. She rarely ever sees him go anywhere, though she’d seen him leave in his truck Sunday morning and come back sometime in the afternoon. _That Eden’s Gate fella._ She’s heard some of the sermons a man named Joseph Seed preaches over the radio. Perhaps her neighbor is religious? But that doesn’t really make that much sense to her. She’s heard nothing but nasty rumors about him since she arrived, and weren’t religious people usually respectable and good?

She shakes her head, inwardly berating herself. She shouldn’t be so critical; everyone is different, and she doesn’t know the full story behind any of the rumors. Perhaps everyone is judging him unfairly. Mercy remembers the army jacket she’s seen him wear too, and that only makes her feel worse. She’s never been in a war, but she’s heard stories of veterans who’ve lost their minds from what they’ve seen. And it can’t be easy having to assimilate back to normal everyday life after years of fighting. Thinking about this now, she wonders if that’s the reason behind his behaviors. She’s never seen anyone visit him, either. Is he all alone here, too?

Mercy places a hand on her chest, tearing her gaze away from the cabin to instead stare into the dark depths of her coffee. She can’t believe how judgmental she’s been, allowing her trust issues to take control of her so easily. The things she’d been called in school…bitch, stupid, ghost…all on account of her muteness, those names have stayed with her a long time. They’d caused people to judge her without even knowing her back in Maryland, and now here she is doing the same thing to someone else. She’d locked herself inside her house and peeked through her blinds at him like he was some dangerous animal, when really, he’s probably no different than her.

Mercy turns on her heels, heading back into her cabin. She digs through her cabinets, withdrawing all the ingredients she needs in order to make some muffins. She wants to befriend this man, to show him how sorry she is for mistreating him. Her grandmother always used to tell her that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Though Mercy doesn’t want to seduce her neighbor, perhaps it will help in building a bridge between them.

The muffins are ready in only forty minutes, and she waits for them to cool before placing each one in a Tupperware container. She opens the door, ready to deliver her gift for him, when she hears footsteps down the dirt path towards the parking lot. Worried that it might be a stranger, she peeks out her door only to see her neighbor walking that way.

She stands there staring after him, her interest in him overruling her awkwardness over spying on him.

He’s walking as though he’s on a mission, strides long and fast. The straight leg jeans he wears hug the thick muscles of his thighs and the bottoms are tucked into the high cuff of his boots. A large hunting knife that would make Crocodile Dundee proud is strapped to his thigh. His white t-shirt hugs his upper body too, and Mercy swallows thickly when she sees the muscles of his shoulders flex as he rolls his arms and neck. She can’t deny that his form is _very_ pleasing to the eyes.

He carries a toolbox in one hand and a spiral ring book in the other, and she can’t help but wonder where he’s going. She doesn’t see him leaving his property very often and is painfully curious.

Mercy waits until she can’t see him anymore before taking the muffins to his door and laying them on his porch. When he returns, he’ll find these waiting for him. Warmth spreads from her stomach to her chest at the thought. She hopes that they’ll make him happy.

**March 29, 2018 – 3:32 PM**

“FUCK THE SEEDS!” a man yells out his window as him and his buddy drive past. He throws a can out, hitting Mercy’s arm when she reflexively covers her face, the stench of beer soaking into her skin and shirt. A second later she hears a gunshot burst through the air and a popping sound. She yelps when her ATV spins out of control and nearly rolls over. She skids to a stop on the side of the road, breathing erratically and heart beating violently in her chest.

Mercy looks back, glaring daggers at the retreating truck. She hears them hooting and hollering as they pass over the bridge into the Henbane region. She waits until they’re just a dot in the horizon before getting off the bike to check the damage. It doesn’t take her long to notice the flat tire. She groans, kicking the bike in frustration.

She freezes when the sound of tires on asphalt reaches her ears, and she sprints past the bike and over the fence on the side of the road. Taking cover beneath the shade of the trees, she watches as a truck with the Eden’s Gate symbol painted on its door speeds past. She lets out a heavy sigh and falls back. She watches the leaves dance in the breeze above her lazily, silently cursing her bad luck. She has no idea how Dutch expects her to lead this fucking Resistance. Not only is she being hunted by the Peggies twenty-four seven, but she is now forever stained with the bad reputation of being a Seed. She is an enemy to both her family _and_ the citizens of Hope County. Nothing she can do will change that. No one will ever trust her.

She briefly wonders if she should leave Holland Valley and go to the Whitetail Mountains. Find Jacob and beg him to forgive her. Only briefly, though. Going to her husband won’t change anything. Besides, she’d started the Collapse. The sand within the hourglass of time slowly draining, steadily counting down until the end of the world. She needs to save as many people as she can before that happens, and without needless bloodshed.

She holds her hand out towards the sky, watching as her rings glint and sparkle from the sunlight. She doesn’t know why she chose the Valley as her first challenge. Dutch had explained it in the tactical sense for her. Holland Valley is the biggest region, and it holds all of the cult’s precious resources. If she were to take it over, she would have enough of an army to storm the rest of Hope County if she needed. And without the food that the Valley has to offer, Joseph’s people will starve.

Perhaps, the real reason she’d come here is because of Joey. She’d been there for Mercy, cradling her in their motel room while she bawled her eyes out. Joey is a good person. She doesn’t deserve any of this. Hell, none of her friends do. But she’s closest with Joey.

Also, Mercy is not particularly close with John, never had been. She may not know much about him, but he doesn’t know anything about _her_ either. It’d be an even playing field for the both of them, and she’ll make sure to use it to her advantage.

Mercy pulls herself up into a sitting position, resting her elbows on her knees while she looks on towards the Henbane River. She has to admit, going to Faith had been her first idea. Faith had been kind to her since the moment they met. Mercy’s not even sure that the young girl has a violent bone in her body. She’s just so sweet. Surely, she’ll be the easiest to convert out of her family. After all, Faith had confided in her. She’d told Mercy how she was becoming skeptical of Joseph’s plans and teachings.

Mercy sighs, running a hand over her face. That was yet another clue about her family that went completely over her head, so lost in love that she couldn’t see through the lies they told straight to her face. Or perhaps maybe she just couldn’t accept the truth when it’d been clear as day. Either way, she’s made herself a fool.

Then there’s the Mountains, where her husband resides. She shudders, hugging her arms around her torso and laying her head on her knees. Though, it isn’t from chill that has her curling up like this. Jacob had been a good husband: loving, gentle, honest (though, looking back he wasn’t quite so honest with her as she’d thought). Before they’d been married he’d been filled with a deeply rooted anger that’d been difficult for her to tame. But she never gave up on him and tame him she did. Eventually, he’d opened up to her, and he told her everything. About his and his brothers’ parents, their foster care, the war, everything. It’d been horrifying for her to hear; it’d scared her, made her sad and angry. When she’d read the Book of Joseph, she’d skipped over the chapters pertaining to Jacob, feeling that it would’ve been an invasion of his privacy. Though the parts about Miller were left out, everything else he’d told her had been written in the book. But she accepted him into her loving embrace, married him knowing every excruciating detail of his past because she knew that he wasn’t that man anymore. He was a different person.

Or so she thought. Now she doesn’t know what to believe, what is fact and fiction.

It doesn’t matter, though. She’ll convince them, save them. She hasn’t told Dutch of her plans to keep her family alive. From what he’d told her, all the residents of Hope County are out for blood, and they won’t just accept Mercy’s family with open arms. Not after all they’ve done, what they’re going to do, what they’ve been doing for so long. However, Mercy will find a way. She won’t give up on them.

Mercy shrugs off her backpack and reaches inside to pull out her map. Dutch had packed it full of things she’ll need while she was liberating his island: food, medicine, water, though it’s nothing of high quality. She knows that she’ll have to forage and hunt for food in order to get the appropriate amount of nutrients she needs, and the medicine won’t save her if she gets mortally wounded.

She unfolds the map on the ground, scanning over the Holland Valley portion. Dutch had told her that there’s a standoff going on in Fall’s End. The town is so far away from where she’s at, though, and there’s no way she’ll make it there quickly on foot. Not too far from her is Rae-Rae’s farm. Dutch had told Mercy to drop in and check on them and see if they needed anything. Rae-Rae’s harmless, he’d told Mercy, and she _probably_ wouldn’t shoot her on sight. And perhaps maybe Rae-Rae would let her borrow a car.

Mercy folds up the map and shoves it back into her backpack.

**…**

_We won’t listen to their crying,  
They had their chance to see the light._

Mercy had heard the music from a hundred meters away as she approached Rae-Rae’s. She wipes the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand as she pushes through the bushes. With her sweat clinging to her skin, she can smell the putrid scent of the beer that’d been thrown at her radiating off of her, and it makes her sick. When she spots the white truck in front of Rae-Rae’s house, she crouches down, peeking out through her binoculars between the cover of the posts.

From where she’s standing, she can just barely make out two Peggies, but she can see that they have a dog in a chained-up cage. She’d heard the barking too as she approached, hoarse and broken as though the dog has been barking non-stop for hours. She sees that the truck has huge speakers mounted in its bed. They’re using it as a propaganda vehicle. She lets the binoculars fall back around her neck, sneaking around the fence to see if she can get a closer look.

She takes cover behind a rock and pulls up her binoculars again. There are…four Peggies from what she can see. More than she can handle by herself. No sign of any hostages either. Either Rae-Rae and her family are gone or they’re dead. Mercy’s heart drops. She hopes they’re all right.

She can at least try to free the dog. She drops her binoculars and untangles her bow from around her shoulders. She’d found it in a prepper’s stash back on Dutch’s Island. She hasn’t had the chance to use it, and she doesn’t really know how, but it will be quieter than using her pistol. She notches an arrow, pulls back on the bowstring, and lets it loose. It doesn’t land anywhere near the cage, and instead lodges itself into one of the pumpkins in the garden. She stamps her foot, clicking her tongue in annoyance. She lets another arrow loose, though this time it’s a little closer to her mark. The arrow arches over the cage and into the pasture beyond.

_What the fuck?_ Mercy quietly growls between her clenched teeth. Actors in zombie movies had always made it seem so easy to use a bow and arrows. Why is this so difficult for _her_ all of a sudden? She can just imagine Jacob standing next to her, laughing at her failed attempts. _I’d like to see you be amazing at something the first time you do it, asshole,_ she thinks even though she knows Jacob is nowhere near her.

Then she shivers, looking over her shoulder. She doesn’t _really_ know that. For all she knows, he could be watching her right now. A predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike down his prey.

_They’ll be beggin’ for forgiveness,  
‘Cause the world is gonna end tonight._

Mercy shakes her head and brings her attention back to the situation at hand. She sees a silo just past the fence with a ladder leading up to its roof. If she were to climb up there, she could shoot the cage, jump down at the back, and run like a bat out of hell through the woods before anyone can find out where she is.

She hoists herself over the fence and climbs the ladder as fast and quietly as she can. Once she’s at the top, she pulls an arrow through the bowstring as hard as she can before releasing it. The shot connects with the cage, breaking the chain and opening the gate. But the dog doesn’t run like she’d expected it to. Oh no.

She watches as the dog bolts out of the cage and jumps onto a Peggie, ripping into his neck. The Peggies immediately go for their weapons and start shouting, but the dog is quicker. Before Mercy can even blink, he’s already killed two more. The last man aims his gun and sprays his bullets, but they only connect with the dirt beneath the dog’s paws. The dog lunges at the man, ripping the gun from his hands. As the Peggie goes for his knife, the dog clamps his jaws down on his arm, pulling him down to his knees where he has free access to the man’s neck. He dies quickly after that.

Then the dog just walks away, not even basking in the aftermath of his victory as a human would, blood clinging to his muzzle. Mercy just stares, eyes wide, feet rooted to the same spot on top of the silo.

Once she’s recovered from her shock, Mercy slowly climbs down the ladder. The stench of freshly shed blood reaches her nostrils, but she does not gag. She’s gotten used to the smell of it, it seems. Besides, it doesn’t smell that different from the blood of an animal. When she rounds the corner of the fence and makes her way to the house, she sees the dog sitting just past a white picket fence. He lifts his head, howling a mournful song to the sky. She approaches cautiously, hands held out to her side.

Her foot snaps a twig as she gets closer, and the dog’s head snaps in her direction, growling at her and taking an aggressive stance. She holds her hands out in front of her and hunches her back, trying to show the dog she means him no harm. He approaches and sniffs at her before returning to his previous spot. She peeks over the fence, heart breaking just a tiny bit more when she sees the dead bodies of a man and a woman lying in the bloodied dirt as the dog looks sadly down at them.

_And now you lend your days in darkness,  
‘Cause the world is gonna end tonight._

She leaves the dog to go to the propaganda vehicle, reaching for the ignition and cutting the engine. She can’t think through this music. She’s blessed with a moment of silence before somewhere farther off music starts back up again.

_When the world seems bleak and cold,_  
When your bones feel tired and old,  
When wind is howling through the trees,

She looks around franticly, searching for the source of the new sound. She glances out over the orchard and sees a shining green light from a radio tower, just across the road at the Gardenview Packing Facility. She groans, pinching the bridge of her nose as a headache flares in her brain. Of course. Just her luck there’d be an outpost just across the way from her.

She has to leave, but the burning flashes within her. Mercy lifts a hand to her heavy heart, looking around to the death which lays all around her. More blood on her filthy hands. What is one supposed to do when surrounded by the dead of their enemies, their allies, the innocents caught in the middle? Is she just supposed to… _leave_ them here to rot in the baking sun? Would somebody find them and give them the burials they deserve? Or would a bear or cougar or wolf come to the scent of blood, delighted to find a free meal waiting for them?

Her hand tightens into a fist around her tank top, breathing coming a little faster as she looks around at the carnage: the dog whining over his dead masters, the men of her once Family scattered around, dog bites marring their bodies. The uplifting music does nothing to ease the ever-growing tension within her spine.

_When the world seems grim and dark,_  
When the sky won’t show a star,  
When fog is thicker than the sea,

She falls on her knees in the dirt, clawing at her throat as she gasps for air. She can’t stay here. Any minute, Peggies would come from the outpost or somewhere else to look for their brothers only to find them dead. Every second she wastes here is a second lost that she could be using to get as far away from this place as she can. Every nerve in her body is screaming at her, leave leave _leave_.

_Traveled through the blackest night,_  
In the forest hides a light,  
You’ll find it if you follow me.

_Breathe._ Dutch’s voice echoes in her thoughts as though he’s right next to her, and she takes in a breath. In through her nose, out through her mouth. Long and deep. Just as he showed her. It takes her only a few moments to calm herself, though the burning is still nagging within her chest numbly.

Mercy looks around, once more, to the dead. She knows deep in her heart, she won’t just leave them like this. She _can’t_. God be damned if she gets caught, but she will not let these bodies wither away into dust out in the open. It would be a disservice to their souls.

She goes to the garage just past the propaganda truck and searches until she finds a shovel leaning against the wall. She makes it back to the dog, burying the spade of the shovel in the soft dirt before gently pulling the bodies of the man and woman (whom she assumes is Rae-Rae) away from the spot she wishes to dig.

By the time she’s through digging two shallow graves, the sun is setting, and her back and arms and legs ache with exhaustion. Surprisingly, no Peggie has come looking for their dead brothers. Unsurprisingly, the dog hasn’t left her side the whole time, has only stayed in the same spot. She thrusts her spade back in the dirt and drags the bodies into their new home before packing the dirt back on top of them.

Then she stares at the bodies of the Peggies. She can’t bury them. Not here, on Rae-Rae’s property. She feels that might be disrespectful to Rae-Rae’s memory, being buried next to the ones who’d killed her. Mercy isn’t even entirely sure what she should do with them. Joseph had never preached about any burial rituals. Nor had she read about any in the Book of Joseph. So, she lines them up on the path, laying them flat on their backs and folding their hands in front of their chests. She walks to the edges of the fence, picking any wildflowers she finds, and returns to place one in each of their hands. If the Peggies come looking for them, they can deal with their dead however they see fit.

Mercy sighs heavily, going inside the house once she’s done, locks all the doors and windows, and heads straight to the bathroom. She reeks of blood, sweat, dirt, and beer, and she desperately needs to wash the stink from her. She moans as she peels off her sticky clothing and rolls her bruised ankles languidly when she pulls off her shoes. She doesn’t even wait for the water to heat up before jumping in the shower and scrubbing her skin and scalp raw.

When she’s done, she leaves the bathroom and goes to the bedroom. Though her stomach clenches unpleasantly from it, she searches through Rae-Rae’s closet for something that’ll fit her. She’d looked about Mercy’s size, and though Dutch had lent his clothes to her so graciously, she doesn’t want to wear them anymore. She settles on a pair of boots, a plaid button-up shirt, and some loose jeans, then shrugs her backpack on her shoulders and walks out the way she came, making sure to take the shovel.

She’ll probably need it again soon.

She sighs when she looks around to try and find a vehicle, but there wasn’t one in the garage and the only other thing she can think to take is the propaganda truck. That will just bring attention to her, though. She sighs. She’ll have to keep walking.

Mercy looks back on the farm one final time, the dog still in the same place, staring down at his dead owners’ graves before she continues on her way to Fall’s End.

**…**

The dark of night overtakes the sky far too quickly for her liking, as if God had flipped off a light switch. Though, even at night, Hope County still looks just as beautiful as it always has, bathed in the hazy glow of the moon. But even though the beauty remains, the rising moon brings with her a chill in the air. Mercy shudders as she wraps her arms around herself. Along with the cold, her head starts throbbing where her stitches are with a vengeance. And she’s completely exhausted. She knows it would be suicide to continue to Fall’s End in the state she’s in. She wouldn’t be able to help them in her weakness. She’d only burden them.

She spots a car on the side of the road and opens the door, checking the ignition for some keys. _Of course._ There’s nothing there. She momentarily wonders if she were to just sit down in the seat if the car would just magically turn on for her.

But life’s not a video game.

Instead, she puts the car in neutral and pushes it into the woods. She stands back and is only slightly proud of her hiding spot. The only way someone would see the car is if by some divine chance they stopped at this exact spot in the road and looked for it. Mercy’s so tired she doesn’t even care about the risk.

Mercy hops into the driver’s seat, locks the doors, and pulls down the sun visor, thankful that there’s a mirror with a light so that she can check her head wound. As she begins sterilizing and wrapping her forehead, she swallows down the lump in the back of her throat.

No friends. No house. No soft bed to keep her warm. Just a dusty car and the wilderness. All alone.

She remembers the dog at Rae-Rae’s, how he’d lifted his head and howled his grief to the world, and she yearns deep inside to do the same. Just a couple nights ago she was snuggled in the arms of her best friend while she cried and lamented her sorrows, cozy beneath several blankets. Now she’s freezing in the dark of a car. Mercy’s thoughts drift to Jacob, and she wonders if he feels just as despondent as she does right now. Is he thinking about her as she is of him? Does he still love her?

She shakes her head, closing the visor. These thoughts are ridiculous (Are they?). Jacob Seed is still her husband. He has to still love her (No, he doesn’t). She hopes that he does. She doesn’t know how she’ll be able to keep going if he doesn’t.

Mercy bites into her knuckle until she tastes copper, trying to keep her tears at bay. She’ll be damned if she starts crying again. She’s done so much crying, she could fill an ocean full of her sorrow. She reclines her seat and closes her eyes, rehearsing in her head what she’ll say to her husband, her brothers, her sister when she sees them again, how she’ll save them.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a scratching at her door, and she bolts straight up, heart caught in her throat. She glances quickly out the window and looks down to see the dog from Rae-Rae’s, whining and looking up at her with soft brown eyes. His tail wags half-heartedly when their gazes connect, tongue lolling out, and she’d find him adorable if he hadn’t interrupted her sleep.

She reaches for the crank on the door and rolls down the window. “Sh-Sh- “ _Shoo._ She waves her hand dismissively, hoping he understands. His head tilts to the side, and she groans. She waves her hand away more aggressively. “Shsh- sh- “ _Shoo. Go away. It’s not safe for you here._ Though, she’s not sure where he’d be safest. As long as it’s not with her; she can barely keep herself safe.

The dog shuffles anxiously, lets out a bark, then turns and sprints back into the bushes. She sighs, about to crank the window back up when he comes crashing through the bushes again and jumps through the window. She yelps and winces as his paws step sharply into her lap before he lies down comfortably at her side, laying his head on his paws.

Mercy groans annoyed, but she’s far too tired to try and chase the dog off right now. So, she relents and lays down next to him with her back turned to him. _Great,_ she thinks, _Now I’m gonna smell like dog._ However, she doesn’t feel so alone anymore, with a warm body next to her, with this animal that’s also lost everything. And at some point during the night, she turns over, flinging an arm over the creature’s body and nuzzling her face into the fur of his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so insanely happy with the response this fic has gotten! I love writing this cause I love the Seeds and I'm on a quest to make the people of Hope County happy. So, it makes me glad that everyone's enjoying it so far.
> 
> Please comment, kudos, and bookmark, and let me know if there's anything you like or dislike. I love hearing your feedback!


	7. Jerome Jeffries I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all!
> 
> So, I know y'all are here for Jacob and Mercy, but I really want this fic to have multiple POVs besides just theirs. It helps me in formulating how people see and react to Mercy, since she's a Seed and not just the Deputy. Plus it helps with showing things that neither one of them sees.
> 
> I also just like multiple POVs in stories.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

**March 21, 2018 – 6:57 PM**

Jerome stands at the podium, opening his bible to the first marked page. “Good evening to you all. How’s everyone doing tonight?” Years ago, he would have been met with the happy cheers and applause of his flock. Now, he only gets quiet murmurs and low grunts in answer. To call this turnout a flock or congregation would be a joke. Almost all of his flock is either now following the Project of Eden’s Gate or have stopped showing up out of fear of the cult, especially after the horrible video that’s been spreading like a wildfire. There are so few people here: an older couple in the back, a man in his late thirties sporting a full beard on the left, the Callan family at the front, and finally the Woodsons.

He clears his throat to continue. “Today we will be discussing what it means to walk with God and the importance of forgiveness. Let me start by asking you to consider, what does walking with God mean to _you_?” He pauses letting the question sink in. “Some of you are faithful members to this church; you come here every Wednesday and Sunday, help out whenever you can. Some of you help your families to understand and learn about God. I’m sure that some feel that you have a close relationship with God while others might feel distant from Him. Overall, though, you feel that you still walk with God.

“Life has been hard for all of us these past few months, these past years, but we must also remember the good, remember the ways we’ve been blessed. We must hang on to the promise that God is always with us, no matter our station in life, and follow him as best we can.” Jerome sighs. Ever since the incident with Mary May and her brother, his faith has been continuously tested. Sometimes late at night, when sleep evades him, he’ll find himself lost in a sea of doubt. “But sometimes it isn’t so easy. Say your loved one comes home late at night and you get upset with them, and you both fight. You jump to conclusions, and the situation gets out of hand. All you want is for them to follow the path of the Lord. Though your intentions are good, you are not fully listening to God.

“Say I was to bring you a cup of coffee with two sugars instead of one, would you think that the coffee was for you? More than likely not, since that is the way that I take _my_ coffee and not in the way _you_ do. Yet, I still made the coffee for you. Most of us look at scripture the same way.” Jerome folds his hands in front of his chest while his eyes scan over the pews. “We interpret God’s word the way that we _like_ them to be for us. Oftentimes, we’ll find ourselves choosing to skip over passages that don’t seem important to us. Have you ever experienced a situation where someone sins against you, and you respond in the same manner? In order to walk with God, we must be willing to not only do the right things to avoid sin but also dealing with sins against us the way that Jesus wanted us to.”

“If you would, please open your bible to the book of John chapter three verses sixteen and seventeen.” Jerome looks down at his bible, even though he knows most of the passages within by heart. “ _For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him._ ”

Just as he finishes the passage, the door opens. He tries to swallow through the dryness in his throat when Mercy Seed walks in. The other members of the church turn to stare at her, though the old couple only looks for a moment before looking back to Jerome. The paternal Woodson stands and begins ushering his family out. Jerome doesn’t blame them for wanting to leave, especially after all the sadistic things that the Seed family has done. The man with the beard is glaring something fierce at the girl, hand poised at his hip where Jerome can see he has a revolver hidden.

Mercy just turns and sits down at the very back, as far away from everyone else as she can be. Her eyes are cast down, and from this distance it’s hard for Jerome to see her expression. Either way, it doesn’t seem like she’ll be causing any trouble.

“Let’s continue.” He clears his throat. “Jesus was ready, prepared, to give up his own life so that the sinner could be saved. Now, I find this passage particularly striking because instead of emphasizing sin so that He can eradicate the sinner, God mentions sin so that relationships can be repaired. Like the one between Him and the sinner or you and others. The only reason this is possible is because of forgiveness and the sacrifice Jesus made through His death and resurrection. The purpose of the believer is to trust in and share God’s forgiveness.”

Jerome turns to the next passage. “If you would join me in reading from Second Corinthians chapter 5 verses eighteen through nineteen.” He waits to give his congregation time to get to the passage. He uses the time to watch Mercy, though she doesn’t move to collect one of the bibles from the slot in the pew in front of her. Once he’s given them enough time, he reads the verses, “ _All this is from God, who reconciled us to Himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to Himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them. And He has committed to us the message of reconciliation._

“In order for us to walk with God, we must be willing to accept and share His forgiveness. I ask you this, have you done something that requires God’s forgiveness? Have you sinned against Him or someone else? Have you paved the way in order for the Lord and this other person to deal with this sin in a Godly manner? For this relationship to be made anew, there _must_ be forgiveness.

“And have you _accepted_ it when God forgives you? If you have sinned against another, have you allowed them the _opportunity_ to forgive you?” Jerome looks back to his bible. “In verse twenty of chapter five in the book of Second Corinthians, it says, _We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making His appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God._ Walking with God requires us to prioritize _accepting_ God’s forgiveness.

“Also, is there anyone in your life who _you_ feel you must forgive?” Jerome asks, looking back out towards Mercy. He can feel God in his heart, though Jerome’s not sure what He’s trying to tell him. All he’s aware of is the ever-constant pull towards her. “Listen to the words in Matthew chapter five verses twenty-three and twenty-four.

“ _Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them; then come and offer your gift._ What God is telling us here, is that we need to reconcile with the ones who’ve wronged us before we can praise him. In failing to do so, we are not only committing a sin against Him but also not allowing ourselves to live a fulfilling and joyful life within the arms of our Lord.

“Instead, we allow for the sin in our hearts to control our lives and leave our relationships broken. And when this occurs, God calls for us to seek Him out, so that we may seek comfort and deal with our hurts and grudges in a Godly manner.” He sighs, his thoughts going to his once friend and brother in Christ, Joseph Seed. Here he is talking a big game about forgiving one another and being reconciled and repairing relationships, and yet he _knows_ deep down within his soul that he’ll never be able to forgive Joseph for anything he’s done. Sometimes he’ll find himself wishing and hoping for Joseph’s death. _It’s no less than what he deserves._ “For a lot of us, it’s not so easy, though. And a lot of times people will say that forgiveness never works.” He turns the pages in his bible. “But Second Corinthians chapter five verses sixteen and seventeen say, _So from now on we regard no one from a worldly point of view. Though we once regarded Christ in this way, we do so no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!_

“When someone says that forgiveness doesn’t work, it is most often because forgiving someone in the divine way that God wants us to sometimes makes them think that they will not get their way. And yet, are we not a part of something that is far greater than us? Is allowing yourself to forgive someone not being involved in God’s will? Not only does forgiveness allow for your relationship with God to be stronger, but it also helps us in our day to day life.”

Jerome closes his bible and looks out over his small congregation. “When we allow for forgiveness and reconciliation to be the priority in our lives, we are living in the way that God wants us to. We are walking with God, and in doing so mirroring who He is and showing the world what is important to Him. So, bask in the forgiveness that Jesus gave to you when he sacrificed himself for the world, and share that same forgiveness with everyone around you.”

After ending the service with a prayer and the rest of the congregation leaves, the only ones left there are Jerome and Mercy. He approaches her, hands folded behind his back. “You’ve got some nerve, showin’ up here after all your family’s done.” She doesn’t turn her head to acknowledge him, just sits there with her hands clenching and unclenching themselves in the navy-blue skirt of her dress. Now that he’s closer, he can see that her expression is completely blank, staring forward as though she were lost in thought.

“Why are you here?” he asks, though he knows she’s mute. She won’t be able to answer him, and he doesn’t understand sign language. He is genuinely curious though, especially since she isn’t causing any trouble.

Jerome sighs. The last time someone from Eden’s Gate had come to this church looking for help had been Will. The poor bastard. He hasn’t seen the old hunter since that horrible night when Mary May killed her brother. He doesn’t like thinking about that night. All he can think about is what he could’ve done differently to help prevent the tragedies that occurred.

But this girl isn’t just a follower of the cult… She’s a Herald, if only through marriage. Whatever she wants, Jerome’s sure that he can’t give it to her. He’s only a pastor, and he has no ties to her. He shouldn’t feel this need to help the girl, doesn’t want to. And yet God is here, guiding him to her like a ray of light.

“I don’t know what you want, and I’m not sure I want to know,” Jerome says, “But you can’t stay here. The service is over, and if your family finds out you’re here, we’ll both be punished for it.” He instantly feels guilty for sending her away, but what else is he supposed to do? Mercy can’t tell him why she’s here, won’t even look at him, and her family is the source of all the terrible goings on within the County. He doesn’t owe her anything.

When she doesn’t answer or move to leave, he turns, moving towards the door. “Wait!” Mercy exclaims, hand reaching out to grasp around his wrist and standing. He turns back to her, eyebrows raised. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that she _can_ talk. Very rarely is someone actually born with non-functioning vocal cords. Still he can’t help but feel shocked.

She releases his wrist. “I-I’m sorry. I just…I…I want…” she stutters. Her voice is scratchy and weak. She groans, hands clenching into fists at her sides. “I wish to confess my sins.”

He sighs. He _is_ a priest. One of the many services he’s supposed to provide is confessions. However, he hasn’t taken any vows. Even if he had he’s already broken all of them: poverty, celibacy, obedience. He can turn her away if he so chooses, and aside from witnessing first hand the wrath of John Seed, Jerome’s heard the other horrible rumors surrounding the other Seed siblings. If Mercy’s done anything as horrible as any of the other Seeds, he doesn’t want to know about it.

“If you want to give a confession, go to John Seed. I heard he offers salvation and freedom to those who confess to him.” Jerome turns to walk away. “I have nothing to offer you.”

“No, please!” Mercy reaches for him again, her grip tight but not painful. “Pl-please! I can’t…I can’t go to him. If any of them find out…The-they’ll kill me.”

He turns back to the girl shaking his head. He shouldn’t feel guilty for turning her away, but he does. God’s hand squeezes his heart painfully when he sees the wild expression on her face, eyes brimming with tears and body shaking. This girl is absolutely terrified, and she should be.

“And how will confessing to me help you?” Jerome asks. “I have taken no vows of secrecy. If anyone comes asking me what you said, I’ll tell them.” He wouldn’t really. He is not that cruel to indirectly cause someone pain, even if she is the sister of his enemy. He only wants to scare her away.

When she starts breathing in heavy gasps, he pushes her shoulders until she’s sitting in the pew again and kneels in front of her.

Mercy sobs. “I…don’t know what to do.” She rests her elbows on her knees, cradling her face in her hands while she cries.

“Listen,” Jerome starts in a soothing tone, “I don’t know what you’ve done, but you won’t make it any better for yourself by staying here. You should run before it gets worse.”

She shakes her head. “No, I c-can’t. They need me. I have…I have to save them.”

He furrows his eyebrows. He doesn’t know what she means by that. The Seeds aren’t the ones who need saving.

“You should leave,” Jerome says while she wipes her cheeks with her arms. “The service is over, and I need to clean the sanctuary.” He doesn’t need to do much cleaning after his sermons. His flock never makes a mess of the church, but still, this is God’s house.

Mercy stands, smoothing her hands down the wrinkles in her dress and turning to the door. He follows her, holding the door open for her. Just as she’s about to leave, she turns her head to face him.

“What you said up there about…about forgiveness…” she begins, hands fidgeting in front of her. “Do you…Do you think that my f-family is worthy of forgiveness?”

Jerome runs a hand through his short coarse hair, pondering what to say and silently seeking God’s guidance. “I’m not sure you would like the answer I want to give you. The Seeds…they’ve done some terrible things over the years. I’m not sure I’d ever be able to forgive them for what they’ve done to the people I care about.” She sighs looking to the floor, understandably disappointed by his answer. “However, Jesus Christ died on the cross to forgive us of _all_ our sins. Even the most heinous ones. Perhaps you can find some comfort in that.”

She nods, eyes hooded as she walks down the steps of the church. He watches as she walks down the sidewalk and enters the Spread Eagle. He feels God again then, as he always does. Though this time He feels heavy within him, guilt weighing him down from God’s disappointment.

He should’ve helped her, could still help her. Instead, he shuts and locks the door.

**March 30, 2018 – 11:17 AM**

Pastor Jerome and the people of Fall’s End had tried hard to keep the Peggies out of their town. Using a gun again had been like riding a bike after years without practice. It’d all come back to him as soon as he held a rifle in his hands again. Though Jerome is used to the fighting the way war had taught him, the rest of the people in Fall’s End are civilians: cooks, servers, cashiers. They don’t know anything about strategy and combat. And the Peggies had overcome them in the early morning hours.

Out of the eleven that’d taken over their town, only seven remain. Just when Jerome had all but given up hope, exhausted and weak from hours of endless fighting, Mercy Seed came, sweeping through the town like a gentle breeze. She’d knocked out every single Peggie, binding their wrists and ankles with zip ties as she went along.

It was the plane that killed the four Peggies. After a few minutes of no answer over the radio, John sent in one of his Chosen to give the remaining men air support. The man rained bullets over the street indiscriminately, not caring who he hit. Mercy was able to take him out with a machine gun that’d been mounted on the roof of the store.

Now, Jerome helps the remaining residents of Fall’s End collect bodies and move the Peggies still alive to the church. He can’t lie, he wishes that Mercy had just killed the men. He doesn’t know why she wants them alive so bad or what she plans on doing with them.

“Just you wait,” one of the Peggies yells as they set him down next to his brothers, “John’ll be here any minute to rain fire down on this town. Then you’ll be sorry.”

Jerome kneels in front of the man. “John’s lost this battle, and he knows it. He won’t be sending anyone else.”

“He may have lost this battle, but he’ll win the war,” the Peggie says, spitting at Jerome’s feet.

Jerome knows he should just leave the man be, but a part of him is painfully curious about the Peggies. The only ones he’s ever talked with are Will and Mercy (and Joseph, though, that was years ago). “You know, that man, the ‘Chosen’ in the plane, he killed four of your brothers trying to take us out.” He takes a breath, planning out his next words. “I understand your hatred for us, but what about the men he killed? Do you not care about your dead friends? Do their lives mean anything to you?”

“They died doing the Father’s will, and I’ll see them again when I enter the pearly gates of Heaven.” To Jerome’s surprise, the man’s eyes become shiny with tears. “I’m _proud_ of my brothers, and though I’m sorry they won’t get to march with us through Eden’s Gate, I know that their deaths were necessary.”

Jerome sighs as the man starts to cry. The Peggies are more lost than he thought. “ _Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted._ ”

“I don’t need your pity!” the man yells as he pushes himself forward. Jerome stands and jumps back as he falls on his face to the ground. He kneels, grasping the Peggie’s shoulders and pulling him back up into a sitting position. And all the while the man mourns his lost brothers.

“I’m sorry for your losses. We’ll be sure to give them proper burials,” Jerome reassures, but the man doesn’t seem to acknowledge his statement, so lost in grief he is. So, Jerome leaves the church in search of Mercy. The last he’d seen her, she’d been heading towards the Spread Eagle. He walks in that direction.

He looks through the window on the door and sees her sitting at the bar with her head in her hands. When he enters, she stands up so suddenly, knocking the barstool over in her haste. She moves to right it, but Jerome is faster. As he picks the stool up off the floor she rubs the back of her neck, cheeks flushing.

Jerome looks down and notices Boomer at her side, looking up at him with joyful eyes as he pants. Jerome kneels scratching the dog behind his ear. “Boomer!” The dog licks his cheek, and he laughs. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” He looks back up to Mercy while he continues to ruffle the dog’s fur. “How’s Rae-Rae? Is she doing all right?”

Mercy doesn’t answer, and instead looks down at her hands where they fidget in front of her. The silence is impregnable, save for Casey’s cooking and the music playing from the jukebox.

Jerome sighs sadly, looking back to Boomer. “ _He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death, or mourning, or crying, or pain._ ” The words of his Lord bring him comfort as he says them aloud. He stands, holding his hands out in front of him, palms up, as he looks past the ceiling and towards the sky. “ _’For I know the plans that I have made for you,’ declared the Lord. ‘Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’_ ”

Jerome gazes back at this scared girl on the run from her family, his enemies. “God surely does execute His plans in odd ways.”

“A little help?” They both turn towards the stairs, seeing Mary May carrying a tower of boxes on the top step.

Jerome lightly jogs over to help her. “Are you trying to break your neck?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time…” Mary May reasons as he reaches up and grabs the box at the top. “Thanks,” she murmurs, letting out a sigh. Mercy approaches next to him, reaching for the next box and holding it delicately in her hands. Mary May’s expression falls. “Oh. It’s you,” she says, tone flat. She pushes past Mercy, leading them to the bar where they set the boxes down.

Jerome pulls a bottle of liquor from the box, smirking. He could use a drink. “Thought that Eden’s Gate confiscated all this.”

Mary May turns on the light, rolling her shoulders and massaging the back of her neck with one hand. “The hell kinda Fairgrave would I be if I didn’t have a hidden stash?” she chuckles. She turns to the box the Deputy had, picking up the frame placed at the top and smiling down at the picture of her and her dad. “Learned from the best…” She looks up to Mercy, glaring. “You gonna tattle on me to your brother?”

Mercy shakes her head, and Mary May scoffs, turning around to hang her picture at the back of the bar.

Jerome clears his throat, the tension in the air palpable. “This town…it’s been through a lot, Deputy. We owe you thanks, but- “

“We don’t owe her a goddamn thing,” Mary May says, interrupting him. She slams two metal mugs on the counter and jerks the bottle out of his hands, pouring the both of them a shot. “Far as I’m concerned, she’s the reason we’re all in this mess.”

“Mary May…” Jerome admonishes.

“Oh, don’t you _Mary May_ me. You know it’s true!” She picks her mug up, downing it in one go. “You saved me, Deputy, I’ll give you that, but I don’t want your fuckin’ help.”

“Mary May, this town needs help,” he says, reaching out and cupping her wrist gently. She pulls out of his grasp. “more than you or I can give…”

Mary May glances up at him, the corners of her mouth slightly downturned. He thinks that perhaps she might agree until she looks back to Mercy, squinting suspiciously. Mary May strides around the bar, fists her hand into Mercy’s shirt, and pushes her back into the wall.

Jerome rushes over, holding his hands out. Boomer bounds up beside him, growling low in his throat. “What are you doing?”

Mary May ignores him, grasping her shirt and tank top and jerking them to the side. “You see this?” she barks as Mercy looks down at her chest. Jerome cringes. _ENVY_ is written across the top of her breast. Though the letters had at one point been black, now they are just barely visible, though still red and swollen from her allergic reaction to the ink. Thin white scars are also scattered about from where John had been too harsh in his tattooing. “Your brother did this to me. He drugged me up and branded me like I was an animal.

“There are other scars he left too, deeper ones that can’t be seen. My mom, my dad, my brother… They’re all dead, and he’s the reason why.” Mary May pulls her shirt back over her scars and points towards the door. “I watched and fought while his men butchered my friends and burned down our homes. So, you better fuckin’ tell me- “Mary May pushes harder into Mercy- “what you plan on doing with John if you get your hands on him. And none of that sign language bullshit, I _know_ you can talk.”

Mercy’s eyes are blown wide while her mouth hangs open. Jerome can hear tiny squeaks in her mouth as she tries to force the words out. “I…I, uh…I want to save him.”

Mary May widens her eyes only for a moment before smirking and letting out a breath on a laugh. She shakes her head in disbelief. “Wow. Well, I wish you luck on your mission, and _thanks_ for saving me.” Mary May starts laughing in earnest, tears forming in her eyes from the mirth, as she walks towards the door. “Really, Deputy. You’re a fuckin’ hero.” Mary May grasps a fist around the handle of the door and jerks it open. “Now get the hell out of my bar.”


	8. Grace Under Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in chapters like this, where the main POV is from a person that has never met either Mercy or Jacob, I will instead have the beginning part be in Mercy's or Jacob's POV.
> 
> Also, so there is no confusion, the new Faith Seed I'm referring to in the first part is Selena. The Faith we all know and love won't appear for a few years yet.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think and have a happy 4th of July!

**Jacob Seed  
July 29, 2008 – 10:08 AM**

Jacob had been completely baffled when he’d found the container of muffins on his porch, most likely left by his neighbor. There was no note, no explanation. He’d gone to work on his truck, came back, and they were just sitting there. He didn’t trust it. He took it back to her porch only to find it back on his the next day. He finally relented, returning the Tupperware container to her porch later that day empty.

He falls into an easy routine over the next few days after receiving his task from Joseph. He hunts and sets traps in the early morning hours. _Anything you can find to feed and clothe our people,_ Joseph said. So far, the only animals he’s been able to kill are an elk and a caribou, but he’s managed to catch a wolverine or two in his traps. After he’s done with that he’ll split wood by his cabin to fill up his winter storage. Sometimes he’ll sneak a stack or two into his neighbor’s shed. He doesn’t really know why, but he reasons that it’s to repay her for the muffins. He still keeps up his schedule of bathing and working out twice a day. When the day is through and he’s laying in his bed, he’ll be lulled to sleep by the music his neighbor plays from her cabin.

A couple times he’s seen her sitting on her porch or in her folding chair on the shoreline with a ball of yarn in her lap, plucking away with a pair of knitting needles. On her knee, a small book is propped open, and she’ll look at the page for a few moments before laying it back down and continuing her stitching. She’ll squint down at her fingers as she works, brows furrowed in concentration and biting her lip, and he’s sure that she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Still, he’ll commend her for trying to learn a craft such as knitting, especially since she’s teaching _herself_.

Three days after she’d delivered the muffins, his mouth watered when he smelled the savory scent of cooked sausage coming from her cabin. When he’d come back from his hunting, he’d found a container of sausage gravy and biscuits waiting for him on his porch. It had been the best meal he’d ever had, and he had half a mind to get her to marry him if only so she could cook for him for the rest of his life.

By some luck they’ve succeeded in avoiding ever confronting one another, even visually. Well… Jacob sees her all the time, but she hasn’t seen him since the day she’d caught him bathing in the lake, he’s sure. He’s good at keeping himself hidden until he wants his presence to be known. Still, he knows that she hears him chopping wood outside during the day, but she never comes out to greet him, nor does he see her peek out her windows at him. And he hears her too. He hears her music, the banging of her pans when she cooks, her cries of joy when she manages to hook a fish on her line.

Jacob’s grown to accept that he enjoys watching her. He likes the way her hair shines like obsidian in the morning sun. And her skin is steadily becoming a light cocoa shade as she continues to work outside. Sometimes he wonders if her skin would sear him if he were to run his hands over her.

But he needs to put those thoughts to rest. He’s got meat and pelts due for Joseph today, and he can’t very well show up at the church with a hard on. He loads the packages into the bed of his truck, and keeps his eyes fixed on the road as he drives to the compound. When he pulls into the drive, Joseph turns from the woman he’s talking to and slowly approaches the vehicle.

“Good morning, Jacob,” Joseph greets as Jacob pushes himself out of the truck. A couple Peggies open the bed up to collect the meat and pelts.

“Morning,” Jacob replies. Joseph rewards him with a smile and grasps his shoulders lightly.

“You brought me what I asked for?” Jacob nods even though he knows that Joseph can see his followers unloading the bed of his truck as they speak. “Good. I knew you would.” He hands Jacob an envelope, thick with cash. Jacob glares at his younger brother, but Joseph holds up a hand. “I know, you don’t accept handouts, but this _isn’t_ a handout. I am simply paying you for providing a service for me.”

“I don’t need you to pay me for helping you.”

Jacob holds the envelope out for him to take it back, but Joseph just grasps Jacob’s wrist, gently closing his other hand around the envelope and pushing it back. “I know, but please take it, brother. Use it to pay for your rent or anything else you might need.”

Jacob sighs, but does not argue as he pockets the money. He hates how his brother has taken up the role as caretaker. Jacob is the oldest; that should be his job. He turns to enter his truck again, but Joseph reaches out and cups his bicep. “We still have weekly dinners at John’s ranch, you know?” Jacob stops, one hand still on the door while his back is turned from Joseph. “Your sister wants to meet you. She wants to make lasagna; I told her it’s your favorite. Please, Jacob. It’s been so long.”

Jacob turns back to him, eyebrows furrowing. “We have _another_ sister now?”

“No, she is Faith,” Joseph explains, “She has simply been… _reborn_ in a new form.”

Jacob had just seen Lana last week during Sunday service. Could Joseph have replaced her that quickly? “Did Lana outlive her usefulness?” It’s more of a statement than a question. Jacob had known Lana was weak from the beginning. She was too cocky, arrogant. She’d been with them for three years, he’ll give her that.

Joseph presses a hand to his abdomen, looking to the ground with a stone-faced expression. “I caught her and John together.” Jacob’s not surprised by that. He’s known that John and Lana were fucking each other for a while. He’s more surprised that Joseph hadn’t known. His baby brother’s such a crybaby, he would’ve thought that John would’ve confessed to Joseph about it long before being caught.

Jacob turns to get back in his truck, but Joseph grabs him again. “You can’t hide out in the mountains forever, Jacob. If you keep on like this, you’ll be shriveled and old and you won’t know what love looks like. You won’t know what it’s like to have someone care about you.”

He can’t bring himself to face his younger brother. John and Joseph have so much faith in him. Too much. He can’t be the man they want him to be, doesn’t know how to be.

“Tell John…I’m gonna take a rain check,” Jacob says, gruffly. He pulls himself into his truck and drives off.

He makes his way back home with a truckload of groceries. About a mile out from his cabin, his truck sputters and dies, and he slams his fists on the steering wheel when his temper flares. John had offered to buy him a nicer, newer truck, but Jacob had settled on this piece of shit that needs constant work.

He has to walk home now. He removes his jacket and leaves it in the passenger seat before loading up his hands with bags. He already knows that he’ll have to make two trips, but he can at least bring some tools back with him on the second trip to try and fix the truck.

He has plenty of time to think on Joseph’s offer on his way back. He loves his brothers more than words can possibly describe. They could ask him to do _anything_ and he’d do it without a second thought. Still, he blames himself for everything they’ve been through. If he’d just done his job as their older brother and kept them out of trouble Old Mad Seed would not have begun beating John, and then they wouldn’t have gone to the system. If he’d never set that farm on fire and killed their foster parents, they would’ve never been separated. John would have never been adopted by parents who forced him to repent for things that didn’t need repenting. Joseph would’ve never been forced to backpack all across the country, suffering rejection and judgment, as he tried to reunite the three of them.

It’s all Jacob’s fault, he knows it deep inside. Sometimes he finds himself wishing that John and Joseph had never found him in that homeless shelter. Having him a part of their lives would only bring them more pain. He doesn’t deserve their love, _given_ to him so unconditionally.

Just as he’s walking up the path towards his cabin, his neighbor walks through the tree line holding a towel and gently patting herself down. She doesn’t notice him standing mere yards away from her, most likely because he’d frozen like a deer in headlights as soon as he saw her. She’s wearing a bikini, a pale pink ensemble that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. He can see every delicious curve on her body as little droplets drip paths down her skin, and he has to stifle a groan when his body immediately reacts to the sight of her. _God_ , it’s been so _long_ since he’s had a good fuck.

She has a scar on her stomach, peaking just beneath the curve of her panty line, prominent and pink against her skin. When she hangs the towel on the railing of her porch he can see thin stretch marks along the tops of her breasts and leading downwards beneath her bikini and towards her side. She reaches up and runs her fingers through her dripping hair, revealing a thin white scar along her hairline and a circular burn scar he knows must be from a cigarette on the back of her shoulder.

He watches, transfixed, as a bead of water drips down her forehead, down her cheek and neck, and between her breasts, imagining what it would be like to run his tongue along the trail it’s left. She’d obviously just gone for a swim in the lake, knowing that he was gone for a while and not knowing that he’d just come back. She’s absolutely soaked, and if shopping bag handles could break, his would’ve shattered into a million pieces. He can feel his nails digging into the flesh of his palms as he tries to gain control over his arousal.

Finally, she walks up the steps of her porch and goes back inside, closing and locking the door behind her. He lets out the breath he’d been holding, and groans when he feels his cock throbbing in his pants.

He’ll have to take care of that before he goes back to the truck.

**…**

**Grace Armstrong  
March 30, 2018 – 11:55 AM**

“This is Grace, campin’ out at the Lamb of God church,” Grace calls over the radio, “The Peggies keep fuckin’ with this place.” She flinches when a bullet splinters through the wall of the perch she’s taken cover in. “If anyone can hear this, I need backup. The Peggies are gonna send in another wave, and I’m not sure I can handle much more.” She’s completely exhausted, hasn’t been able to get even a few minutes of sleep since this all started. If she goes another night without sleep, she’ll start seeing things. She already went through that in Afghanistan…she remembers seeing the silhouettes of soldiers that weren’t there in the distance, the glint of a phantom enemy sniper… She’s not sure if she can go through that again, fearing ghosts.

Surprisingly, someone answers her call, and though it catches her off guard, she barely catches what the Morse code forms. “ _On my way._ ” That’s…suspicious. It could be anyone on the other end of the line. She lets out a shaky breath, tightening her grip on her rifle. _Whoever it is, I’ll take care of them._ She gets as low as she can to the floor, peeking through the scope to the remaining Peggies.

It had been so long since she’d come back to this church. She’d woken up to the sound of gunshots only a couple nights ago, gathered up what little she could, and ran as far and fast away from her house as she could get. The church was the first place she’d thought to go. She’d been so angry with what her Pops had done for years, but now…now she just wants his guidance.

But when she made it, the place had been swarmed with Peggies. When she saw what they were doing to the graves: painting over the headstones, smashing some with sledgehammers, even digging some of the coffins up to loot what little treasures might be left inside them. She’d been filled with a rage unlike anything she’d ever felt. Her Pops had been buried here along with other fellow veterans, people who’d fought tooth and nail to keep this country free. She would not stand by and let their graves be defiled.

It’d been a miracle that she’d managed to take out the first wave. She’d been fueled by pure adrenaline, cutting each Peggie down one by one ‘til it was just her in the graveyard. Then she burned their bodies in the street to send a message, to tell the cult that they could fuck right off. Grace would not let them have this church.

Still, no matter how many Grace kills and burns they keep coming, as if there’s a Peggie factory pumping them out as soon as one falls. Adrenaline can only keep her going for so long. She’s so hungry, tired, she can barely see straight. She winces as a bullet grazes her cheek, leaving a thin red line. She holds her cheek as she rolls back behind cover. Now, she thinks she understands why her Pops had killed himself. She’s never felt so hopeless, so utterly defeated. Her Pops had called her brave in his suicide note, but she doesn’t feel very brave right now.

 _What will they do to me when they capture me?_ She wonders as her stomach clenches unpleasantly. She groans when she hears a car pull up, certain that those are the reinforcements the Peggies called for. When she turns back over and looks through her scope, though, she sees a girl dressed in civvies jump out of the driver’s side. That isn’t an Eden’s Gate truck she’s driving, either. And is that…Boomer following her?

Her heart soars, as she stares down at the girl with wide eyes. “Hey! Up here!” Grace yells, waving her arm. The girl looks around frantically until her eyes land on Grace. “I need your help!” She instantly regrets yelling when bullets rain down on her nest. She crouches behind the wall, hoping the girl will help distract them.

Once the bullets have stopped coming her way, Grace rolls out of cover, shooting every Peggie she sees. She watches the girl too. She points to Peggies while Boomer runs up to them and takes their weapons. While they’re distracted by the dog, she sneaks up behind them and uses her shovel to strangle them until they’re not moving anymore. Grace gives her whatever cover she can, shooting until all the Peggies are dead.

Grace lets out a heavy sigh of relief, lifting her arm to wipe the sweat from her brow. She watches as the girl goes to each Peggie, checking them to see if they’re dead. “Hey! I’m up in the tower!” Grace calls to get her attention, but the girl pays her no mind. She kneels next to a Peggie, pressing her fingers to his neck. She nods and reaches into her backpack. She begins tightening zip ties around his wrists and ankles.

 _Wait…Is he alive?_ Grace’s temper spikes as she looks through her scope and aims at the man’s head. “Hell no,” she says as she squeezes the trigger, satisfied when the bullet connects with his head. The girl yelps, falling back on her ass and looks up to the perch, eyes wide. She reaches behind her and withdraws a pistol, aiming at Grace.

Grace aims her sights for the girl, and just before she pulls the trigger, the girl dives behind a gravestone, narrowly missing death. Grace curses under her breath. Now, Boomer is barking up at her, running towards the church. It doesn’t matter, he can’t get up to her.

But she’s completely lost sight of the girl. Grace doesn’t know why she’d pulled a gun on her, but one thing is certain, Grace _will_ be the victor in this fight. Whoever that girl is, it seems like maybe she’s a double agent. If she is, she’s an enemy to Grace. She won’t work with a Peggie sympathizer. As far as she’s concerned, all the followers of the Project deserve to die. Every. Last. One.

Grace almost misses the creaking of the boards behind her and turns around sharply, aiming her gun from the hip. The girl grabs the muzzle and points it away from her just as Grace fires. She pulls the gun out of Grace’s hands, throwing it somewhere behind her, before tackling into the sniper. Grace screams at her, kicks, scratches, bites, anything to overpower the other woman, but she’s so tired and weak. Before she knows it, she’s been bound at the wrists and ankles by zip ties.

“What the hell?” Grace curses, voice rasping from exhaustion. She looks up at the girl, realization hitting her as a certain Family photo comes to mind. “Wait, I know who you are!” Grace laughs bitterly. “You’re Mercy fucking Seed, aren’t you? You’re married to that sick fuck up north.”

Mercy squats in front of her, elbows resting on her knees as she scrutinizes Grace. She raises her hands, signing. Grace shakes her head. “I don’t know any sign language.”

Mercy sighs, lips tightening into a line. She reaches for a radio at her belt and begins pressing buttons. “ _You understand this?_ ” Grace makes out over her own radio.

“Yeah, yeah,” Grace says dispassionately. “What are you gonna do to me, huh? Take me to your husband so I can join his militia?”

Mercy shakes her head as she types out another message, “ _I’m here to help you._ ”

“Oh, are you now?” Grace scoffs. “Like John Seed, drowning people in the rivers? Or like sweet little Faith and her army of braindead Blissed up motherfuckers?”

“ _You called for help and I came,_ ” she types.

“I didn’t ask for _you_ ,” Grace growls, struggling in her restraints. “Get these things off me, so I can punch your fuckin’ lights out.”

“ _I don’t want to fight you._ ”

“But you want those Peggies alive, which doesn’t sit right with me,” she snaps, “Why the fuck are you helping them?”

“ _I need to save them._ ”

“Save them?” Grace starts laughing, hoarse and hysterically, as if someone had told her the funniest joke in the world. And maybe it is. “Man, you’re straight up delusional. Do you even know what the Peggies are doing here?” Mercy shakes her head, and Grace doesn’t even believe her, but still she explains, “My Pops is buried in one of those graves down there, along with some other war heroes. Your _friends_ are trying to defile ‘em, rob ‘em too. They’re trying to erase our history and demoralize us so that we’ll break and roll over. Do they sound like they need saving?”

Mercy squints as she looks to the floor, irises dancing about as she thinks. Finally, she types, “ _If we kill indiscriminately and without forgiveness, how are we sending the message that we’re the better option?_ ” Grace’s eyebrows furrow, a little taken aback by her answer. “ _You can’t fight fire with fire. That’ll just engulf everyone in the flames. Neither side will win then._ ”

“Do you seriously think that they will just join up with you, simply because you’re not killing or hurting anyone?”

“ _These men and women, they’re no different from you or me. They are people with consciences of their own. Some of them must realize they’re not doing God’s work._ ”

Grace juts her chin forward, glaring at her suspiciously. “How do _you_ know that?”

“ _Because I was one of them._ ” Grace’s eyes widen just a little before she looks away, anywhere but into Mercy’s powerful violet gaze. She can’t stand them, the hope shining through like a beacon. The honesty so intense that Grace is practically suffocating from it. “ _Is that really so hard for you to believe?_ ”

Grace ignores her question, instead letting out a heavy sigh. “Wow, what a hero,” Grace says in a flat tone, “Like fuckin’ Batman incarnate.”

Mercy raises an eyebrow, smirking. “ _I would prefer Batgirl, but I’m no hero._ ” She looks as though she’s going to type something else but stops herself beforehand. She instead types, “ _If I free you, are you going to try and shoot me again?_ ”

Grace narrows her gaze. “You pulled a gun on _me_. I just wanted to kill the Peggie you were trying to capture.”

Mercy widens her eyes, lifting a fist to her chest and turning it clockwise. She types, “ _I’ve had a lot of people shoot at me these past couple days. Please, don’t take it personally._ ”

Mercy reaches into her boot and pulls out a hunting knife, long and black, with the letters M.S. engraved in the blade. She cuts the zip ties around Grace’s wrists and ankles and retrieves her rifle from where she’d thrown it. Just as Grace closes her hands around the gun, they hear the crunching of asphalt as the Peggie reinforcements approach.

“Shit!” Grace hisses, pressing her back to the wall and peeking out. There are so many, more than she can take on alone. She looks back to Mercy. “Listen, I’m a good shot, but I need someone to watch my back. If you help me in takin’ these guys out, I’ll _consider_ joining whatever it is you got goin’ on.” Mercy nods, standing and sneaking out of the perch.

Grace takes a deep breath through her nose and out her mouth as she takes aim.

**…**

When it’s all over and Mercy assures her that it’s safe, Grace comes down from her nest and searches the gravestones until she finds her Pops’. She kneels before it on both knees. Luckily, the Peggies had not yet defiled his grave when she’d got here. She runs her fingers over the letters, sighing. For a long time after her dad had killed himself, she’d been plagued by his spirit. In their house. In her dreams. Everywhere she went. She couldn’t escape his memory.

It’s painfully obvious to her that his grave has been left unattended. No flowers have been laid out, to show that he still has loved ones alive. She hasn’t visited him once, didn’t even attend the funeral. She’d been the only one to not show up. And serves him right, she’d thought. He abandoned her, left her behind. _Some daughter I am._ She doesn’t even _feel_ him anymore, not even here in the place where he rests.

Mercy comes to stand beside her, smiling sadly down at the gravestone. She reaches for her radio, tapping out a message on the buttons, “ _I’m sure he’s happy you were here to protect him._ ”

Grace shakes her head. “I don’t think I’m welcome here anymore.”

Mercy’s brows furrow as she looks down at the once soldier, before placing a hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing. She turns to tend to the Peggies, the dead and live ones. Grace sits for a moment, staring blankly at the headstone.

“For years after you left, I’d wanted to be free of you. Go through the day without ever feeling you there with me,” Grace says, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. “Now, you’re no longer a part of me. I’ve discarded your memory, shut you out. I gained freedom and lost my past because of it.” Grace lets out a shuddering breath. “I can’t feel you anymore. I’ve never felt so lonely, so lost. Is this really the solitude I wanted so badly?”

There is no answer, as she’d expected. How can a dead person reply, after all? Grace looks to Mercy, binding the Peggies still alive to take as prisoners. Where Joseph smites the ones who go against him, Mercy reaches out, offering her hand to anyone who will take it. Grace gazes down at her own hand, weathered from years of holding a rifle. She tightens it into a fist, looking back to her Pops’ gravestone.

“I’m gonna make you proud, Pops,” Grace says, standing. She lightly jogs to Mercy, picking up the feet of the dead man she’s carrying to help her move him to the street. She helps until all the Peggies they killed are laying out in the street with their hands folded over their chests.

Her and Mercy stand back as they look over the church, but Grace still feels uneasy. “Are you sure the Peggies won’t be coming back here?” She won’t let them mess with her father’s grave, not while she still lives and breathes.

Mercy nods, tapping the buttons on her radio. “ _I’ve called for some Resistance members to be stationed here, to hold it. They’re on their way now._ ”

Grace nods and looks down at her hands as they fidget. “Can I ask you somethin’?” Grace asks. Mercy nods, so Grace continues, “I was mad at my Pops for a long time after he died. I couldn’t cope with what he’d done. I didn’t go to his funeral, blocked out my memories of him. Now that he’s truly gone from me, I want nothing more than to have him back.” She swallows, not sure why she’s telling Mercy all this. She can just see it in Mercy’s gaze, the love and compassion illuminating from within her. Do the Seeds just naturally have this kind of effect on people? Is this how Joseph was able to gain so many followers in so little time? “I’m just wonderin’… Do you think he’ll ever be able to forgive me? I haven’t felt him in so long… I’m afraid he hates me.”

Mercy just smiles at her, kindly, lifting her radio to type. “ _I’m sure that he’s already forgiven you._ ”

Grace lets out a bitter laugh. “I don’t believe you,” she says, and yet her heart had lifted just the tiniest bit from the words. “It’s a…a pleasant lie, at least.” She shakes her head, waving her hand dismissively to end the conversation. “Enough of this sappy shit, though. Listen, I owe you. Big time. I was callin’ for help, and you were the only one who came. That…means a lot to me. My Pops always used to say, _as long as we keep believin’ in each other, there’s still hope._ If we stick together, look out for one another…then the cult can’t break us.” Grace yawns, rolling her neck to work out the kinks. “I’m so tired. I’m gonna go and find a place to rest and lay low for a while, but if you ever need my help, just gimme a call.”

Mercy nods, tapping on her buttons, “ _Have your radio set to channel seven._ ”

Grace pulls her radio from her belt, turning the dial on the top ‘til she reaches seven. “Seven. Got it, the luckiest number there is.” Grace smirks at her as she pats Mercy’s shoulder. “Seriously, I got your back.”

Mercy salutes with two fingers as Grace begins her search for shelter.


	9. I will mend you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all!
> 
> So this chapter has smut in it...three times...cause I'm a thirsty hoe and I can't be quenched. Also this chapter is one that I've been thinking about since starting the fic so I'm happy to have finally wrote it out. That's also why it's almost 10,000 words long, I just wanted it to be perfect.
> 
> I hope you enjoy and please comment, kudos, and bookmark, and let me know what you think.

**Jacob Seed  
April 13, 2012 – 7:09 PM**

“Will you just relax?”

Mercy sits in the passenger seat of his truck, leg bouncing anxiously as she looks out the window. A baking dish with a chicken broccoli casserole sits in the seat between them, covered with tin foil and preventing that heavenly smell her cooking always gives off from filling the truck.

She’d practically begged Jacob to bring her out to dinner tonight so that she could meet his family, and now he has half a mind to turn around and take them home, she’s so nervous. First, she’d struggled with finding the perfect dish to bring even though he’d assured her that she could make anything, and they’d like it just fine. Then she’d made him sit and watch as she’d tried on different dresses, getting frustrated when he said every single one of them was acceptable. She’d finally settled on a simple dress the color of wine with sleeves that hang down her shoulders, shoulders he wants to sink his teeth in and mark as his right now.

Now, she’s asking him question upon question about his brothers and Faith. “What if they don’t like me?”

“Why do you care if they like you?” he asks. She is his. She shouldn’t be worrying about whether or not his family approves of her. He’ll keep her regardless.

“Because they’re your family,” she says, turning to him and raising an eyebrow as if that answer was obvious. “And if I know anything abut dating and relationships and that kind of stuff, it’s that these kinds of things are important. If they hate me, it’s all over.”

He really thinks she worries too much, but he can’t help but be worried too. Jacob isn’t heavily experienced with any of the intimate details of… _whatever_ this is between them. Even sex. Intimacy had been something he didn’t want to have anything to do with. He wasn’t concerned with kissing just to kiss or exploring the other’s body to find what they enjoyed or even _holding_ each other after it all. Before Mercy, there’d only been maybe a handful of other women and even then, most of his life was spent alone with his hand. Sex had always been cold, with the only goal being a short moment of calm before the storm started back up again.

Not with Mercy, though.

With Mercy it’s all soft moans and gentle touches and loving gazes that make his head spin. He hadn’t known how intense sex could feel until that first night he’d slept with her, how utterly complete he could feel. He wants more of it with her, hadn’t realized that’s what he’s been craving his whole life. And no matter what, he can’t shake the feeling that tonight is the beginning of the end. That _somehow_ presenting her to his family, declaring her as _his_ , will make it all too real. That she’ll just disappear.

_The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh._

He places a hand on her knee to still her shaking, her skin soft and smooth against the callouses of his fingers. “Well, that isn’t going to happen. In fact, I can tell you what’s going to happen,” Jacob says as his thumb traces lazy circles against her skin. “Faith is going to love you, and she’s gonna want to keep you all for herself. Joseph’s going to talk to you about the Voice, because that’s what he always does, and then he’ll have his hand at trying to make you join the Project. And John is going to grill you about every aspect of your life, which you won’t have to worry about since I’ll be speaking _for_ you all night.”

He glances over to her, still staring out the window. At least her leg has stopped bouncing, but it still bothers him that she’s nervous. He knows how to fix that. He pulls on her knee, gently uncrossing her legs, and slides his hand beneath her skirt and up the silky expanse of her thigh. “What are you doing?” she asks, but she still parts her legs like the good girl she is.

Jacob growls approvingly as he tucks his fingers past the mint green lace of her panties to find her velvety folds already wet for him. “Fuck, how can you think that my family won’t love you when they see you?” he rasps, “Good girl like you, obedient without being told what to do.”

She squeezes her thighs around his hand when he begins sliding his fingers along her slit. “Jacob, stop,” Mercy says, but it only eggs him on as he pushes two fingers inside her. She sucks in a breath as her head falls back against the headrest. He takes his eyes off the road for only a second to admire her expression as she loses control. When she glares at him, her arousal burning from within her violet gaze, he smirks. “Jacob, really. We’re going to eat dinner with your family. They’ll _know_ \- “

He hooks his fingers, and she’s cut off by her moan as she arches her spine, pulling against her seatbelt. “They’ll know what? That you’re mine?” He pushes into her deeper, and hums when he feels her tighten around his fingers. “Good. Because you _are_.” Her fingers dig into the edges of her seat as he continues to work her, thrusting deeply a few times before pulling out to stroke that sensitive bundle of nerves that drives her insane when he touches.

“Go on. Be as loud as you want,” he says when she lets out a soft moan, a breath that ends in a whimper. He hates how self-conscious she is sometimes, how embarrassed she gets from her body’s natural reaction to pleasure. He clenches his jaw as he focuses on the road, grunting when he pushes back inside her and works her towards her orgasm.

By the time they make it to John’s ranch, her legs are shaking for an entirely different reason. Jacob’s quick to push himself out of the driver’s side and stride over to her side while she’s opening her door and pushing herself out. As she’s bending over the seat to grab the baking dish, he steps behind her and presses his groin against the cushion of her ass. She sighs as she instinctually presses back against his hardness.

He hooks his arm around her waist, leaning over her to press his face against her neck and kiss her just behind her ear. “I want you,” he growls, “I could fuck you right here in John’s driveway.”

Mercy whimpers. “As _appealing_ as that sounds- “she moans when he nips her earlobe, “-mmm, I really don’t want your brothers’ and sister’s first impression of me to be that girl with Jacob’s semen dripping down her legs.”

Jacob groans when his cock twitches from the thought. “Fuck, wouldn’t it be worth it to see the look on Joseph’s face?”

“No,” she says simply, pushing back hard against him so she can turn herself around. She holds the casserole dish in between them almost defensively, as if that will stop him. “It wouldn’t be. I want to make a _good_ first impression.”

Jacob’s a little disappointed with her reaction. She isn’t usually averse to having sex in odd places. Sometimes he wonders if she has a kink for it or if maybe she is that insatiable that she needs it right then and there. “Didn’t realize reading a book turned you into a saint,” he says, only slightly teasing. The whole reason she’d wanted to come here was because of Joseph’s book. One night she’d been reading it before she went to sleep, then the next she’d told him she wanted to meet his siblings.

She raises an eyebrow, smirking wolfishly. “Would it turn you on to think of me as a saint?” She giggles as she looks up at him, gently pushing past him. She shakes her head. “C’mon, Jake. I wanna get in there before it gets any later.”

She takes a few steps down the path before halting when she looks over the expanse of the property. He walks past her, thinking that she’ll snap back into movement once he’s passed, but she doesn’t. He stops just at the top of the steps leading to the ranch’s front door, turning back to her and raising an eyebrow.

“You coming?” he asks.

She shakes her head, eyes wide and the tip of her shoe scuffing against the dirt. “May…Maybe we _should_ go?”

“We’re already here, Mercy.” He jerks his head in the direction of the mansion.

She looks down at her dress, rubbing her knees together. “I’m underdressed.”

“No, you’re not.” Jacob sighs, stepping down and approaching her. He’d felt the same way when he came to the ranch the first time. He’d never set foot in a building even remotely as nice as John’s place, and he was too used to a life of poverty. For a while he didn’t know what he should wear to these family dinners until he’d settled on simple flannels and his usual jeans and boots.

Mercy bites her lip as he stares down at her with hot eyes. “This dress is awful,” she whines.

She looks gorgeous. Her skin glows from the amber light of the setting sun. Her cheeks are still flushed from the orgasm he’d given her with his fingers, pupils blown wide from the arousal that lingers in her system. He lifts his hand and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, thumb tracing her jaw, across her chin, and tugging her bottom lip lightly. “You look fine, Pup.”

He jerks his head, and she walks ahead of him to the door. He steps beside her, pressing a finger to the doorbell and hearing the consequent ring announcing their arrival. “He’s a lawyer, right? And he was able to get all of this himself?” she asks, eyes glittering as she looks at him. He simply nods, caught in a strange moment of feeling pride for his brother and a spike of jealousy as she admires the outside of the mansion.

When John opens the door, his eyes light up upon seeing Jacob. Though in only milliseconds, he catches sight of Mercy, expression faltering slightly.

Jacob clears his throat, bringing John’s attention back to him. “I’m sorry, brother. I’m glad you could make it, but I wasn’t expecting any other guests.”

“She made casserole for us,” Jacob replies, as though that alone would convince John to let her join them. “It’s better than anything I could bring.”

Mercy holds up the casserole as an offering, and John raises an eyebrow as he looks at her then back to Jacob. “You didn’t have to bring anything but thank you anyways.” He steps to the side, holding a hand out to welcome them in his home. “Please, come in.”

Jacob presses a hand to the small of Mercy’s back to urge her forward. She takes a tentative step inside, violet gaze scanning over the décor. John’s eyes follow her every move, and Jacob can’t help but feel at least a little annoyed by it. His blood boils as he watches his little brother’s penetrating stare glance over her form, as if she were a gift for _him_. If it were anyone else looking at Mercy like that, Jacob would punch his teeth in.

Mercy turns around quickly, as if she’d forgot they were there, eyes wide as she signs, “ _You have a very lovely home._ ”

John blinks completely caught off guard. “Forgive me, but I don’t know sign language.”

“She says you have a nice place,” Jacob says, his tone curt and biting. Mercy glances at him with her brows furrowed before she goes back to looking around.

When her back is turned, John leans towards him, eyes never leaving her. “What did you say her name was again?” John whispers.

_I didn’t,_ Jacob thinks, but answers anyway, “Mercy.” He steps through the door and approaches Mercy. As he comes up behind her, his hand reaches to cup her ass, hoping that John will see and get the hint. As soon as he squeezes her softness, she jumps, head snapping in his directions and eyes wide. She pokes his ribs with her elbow, glancing nervously behind them. In an instant, his hand leaves her butt and snakes around her waist. He jerks his head in the direction of the dinning room, and they walk together.

Of course, Joseph and Faith are already there, waiting for Jacob to arrive. They’re standing by the table, talking in hushed voices until they see the couple enter. Faith’s eyes brighten immediately upon seeing Mercy, tapping Joseph’s shoulder and pointing towards them. When Joseph sees her, though, he looks almost panicked, distraught, and suspicious by the sight of her. It’s gone within the next second, leaving Jacob wondering if he’d just imagined it.

“Joseph, Faith,” Jacob says in greeting, then he turns his attention to Mercy. “This is Mercy. She wanted to meet you. She’s my…” He isn’t sure what to call her. He hadn’t thought this all through. He’d always hated the girlfriend/boyfriend terms. Besides, calling her his girlfriend makes it seem like there is something more serious between them. “She’s my girl,” he says instead.

Joseph is the first to approach her, taking slow deliberate steps. He is surprisingly silent as he takes the casserole from her hands, and Mercy watches him with wide eyes, legs shaking anxiously. Or perhaps she’s still feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm. Still, she casts her eyes to the ground as he continues to stare at her and without saying a word he turns from her and goes to place the casserole with the other foods situated along the dining table. Mercy sighs quietly, seemingly disappointed with Joseph’s reaction.

“Oh, honey!” Faith exclaims suddenly. She beams from ear to ear as she strides towards them. “You’re the most beautiful thing that’s ever graced this ranch!” John scoffs behind him as he finally joins the rest of them. Faith gives Jacob an approving glance as she gathers Mercy in a tight embrace. Mercy gasps, blush darkening as she returns the gesture. As Faith pulls back, her hands glide down Mercy’s forearms to grasp at her hands in between them.

Mercy pulls back one of her hands to sign, “ _Thank you._ ”

Faith’s eyes widen as she lifts a hand to her lips. “Oh, my goodness! I’m so sorry.” She turns to Jacob, still holding Mercy’s hands. “Can she hear what I’m saying? Is she deaf?”

“She isn’t deaf,” Jacob answers.

Faith sighs in relief, smiling back at Mercy. “Why don’t we sit down. You can sit next to _me_ if you want.”

“Faith,” Joseph says, the first word he’s spoken since they got there. “I’m sure Jacob wants to sit next to his… _girl_.” The last word is spat out, as though the presence of Mercy is a sin in and of itself. Jacob’s hand clenches into a fist at his side, jaw tightening. Joseph’s the one always preaching about loving and accepting one another, and yet he’s done nothing so far except give Mercy the cold shoulder. Jacob knows that he shouldn’t care this much, that it shouldn’t be affecting him the way that it is. Still, the feeling consumes him.

After they set a place for Mercy, they take their seats. Of course, John chooses to sit across from her, the better to look her in the eyes when he begins interrogating her. Faith is on John’s left and Joseph’s following after her at the head of the table, where he always sits. His eyes never leave Mercy, even as they begin eating, his gaze sharp and wary.

“This casserole is lovely, Mercy,” John says halfway through the meal. “Surely, a woman of your talent is a chef of some sort.”

“She’s a deputy,” Jacob answers for her.

John raises a brow as he looks at his brother. “Really? I thought I’d met everyone down at the sheriff’s department, but I guess I must’ve missed one.” He looks back at Mercy. “Have you always lived in Hope County?”

“She’s from Maryland.”

“Maryland.” John repeats, keeping his gaze on Mercy as she nods, a small smile playing at her lips from his attention. John has always been the most handsome out of the three brothers, and Jacob can’t help the jealousy that courses through him as she continues to keep her gaze locked with his little brother. He reaches next to him to hold her knee possessively. “You’ve certainly come a long way from home. What brought you all the way out to this backwater County?”

“I bought her,” Jacob says, and Mercy immediately starts coughing next to him. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking as Joseph glares disappointingly at him.

Faith leans forward so that she can capture everyone’s attention. “Well, I think she’s lovely.”

“Yes, I wouldn’t expect someone of her… _station_ to be quite so disarming,” John says, and Jacob scowls at him. But his little brother ignores it. “Maybe I should look into ordering one just like her.”

“Maybe you should,” Jacob growls, stabbing his fork into his food. He squeezes Mercy’s knee, hearing her wince beside him from the death grip he has her in. John smirks seemingly amused by what’s transpiring and it only serves to piss Jacob off more. Faith saves them from the tense silence that follows, talking to Mercy about the new flowers she’s tying to grow at the Conservatory through genetic engineering. She doesn’t seem to truly understand what the young girl’s talking about, but he’s glad her attention isn’t on John anymore.

“Sister, perhaps Mercy would like to take a walk around the ranch,” Joseph says as the plates are being cleared off the table.

Faith smiles, eyes shining as she stands and makes her way around the table. “Of course!” She grasps Mercy’s hand and pulls her up from her seat. “We’ll leave the men to talk while I show you around.” Faith hooks her arm around hers as they walk towards the back door. “This place is so beautiful, you’ll love it,” he hears Faith say as they leave.

When her voice has gotten far enough away, Joseph says, “What were you thinking bringing her here?”

Jacob glares at his brother, and John looks between the two, raising a brow. “She read that damn book of yours and begged me to meet you. The only reason I brought her out here was because she wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Do you even _know_ who she is?” Joseph asks, as though he already knows her completely. That doesn’t sit well with Jacob.

“She’s no one you need to worry about,” Jacob answers.

“Are you so sure?”

“I keep her in check,” he barks, hands clenching into fists on his knees.

“You treat her like she’s a wild animal,” John says, leaning back in his chair and resting his head on his knuckles.

“Oh, she is,” Jacob rumbles, “Especially, when I’m fucking her.”

John narrows his eyes at his older brother.

“And this… _relationship_ you have with her,” Joseph starts, ignoring Jacob’s crude wording, “does it go beyond these baser desires?”

Jacob fixes a cold stare as he looks at Joseph. What does his brother expect him to say? That he only feels whole when he’s inside her? That she’s the only thing that keeps the nightmares at bay? That simply being in her presence makes him forget about the cruel world they live in? That even when he’s not with her, she plagues his mind with her memory? That she is sweeter than any vice, and she is the only drug he’ll ever indulge in? He can’t tell Joseph any of it, no matter how true it is. It is more than he wants _anyone_ to know about him, even Mercy. _Especially_ Mercy.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jacob says.

Joseph glances down to the table, then back to Jacob. “Is she joining our flock?” Joseph asks, “She will need to be cleansed of her sin.”

John perks up from that, and it only makes Jacob angry. “Over my dead body,” he growls.

Joseph furrows his brows. “She cannot be a part of our Family otherwise.”

“I don’t care. She is mine.” He will not let her be used by his family. Will not let his little brother mark her. The only marks he’ll allow are the scars left behind from him biting her, bruises his fingers imprint into her skin. “And I’m not going to stop seeing her.”

Joseph’s irises dance about, seemingly contemplating Jacob’s stance. “Very well,” Joseph says, standing abruptly and making his way to the door.

“Where are you going?”

Joseph turns back, azure eyes meeting his own. “I wish to speak with her, at least. Is that not why she came here?” Jacob stands from his chair, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. “Will you allow me to speak with her, Jacob?”

Jacob lets out a long tense breath, nodding slightly. He takes his seat again as Joseph walks out in search of Faith and Mercy. He and John are left alone, and John watches him, finger tapping against the hardwood of the table.

“Did you really buy her?” John asks.

Jacob doesn’t answer him.

**Mercy Greco  
April 13, 2012 – 8:15 PM**

“Oh, I love springtime in Hope County,” Faith sighs as they walk, “It’s a beautiful thing watching all the flowers bloom after being dormant for so long, plus the air is calmer and fresher. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Mercy nods as the young girl looks at her expectantly. She must be barely eighteen, Mercy guesses from the way she holds herself. It is painfully obvious to Mercy that she is not related to any of the Seed brothers, though. Brown hair so light it could be mistaken for blonde. Green-blue eyes that glitter like emeralds, so unlike the clear blue of her brothers’. Everything else about her face looks different from them as well, the structure sculpted differently from theirs. Mercy had been expecting that, though. The book hadn’t even mentioned her ‘til the end, spoke as though she’d just appeared in their life one day, and Jacob told her that he doesn’t consider Faith as part of his family.

Faith holds Mercy’s hands within both her own as she connects their gazes. “You know, I’m really happy that Jacob found you,” she says, and Mercy can tell that she means it. Her heart skips a beat. She is glad at least one sibling has accepted her. Joseph has been so cold since meeting her, and John doesn’t seem to care that she’s there. She can’t help but feel a little disappointed from it all.

Faith cups Mercy’s cheek, thumb lightly caressing her cheekbone. “You’re sad,” Faith says, her voice featherlight. Mercy widens her eyes a little. She hadn’t meant to give away any indication of that. “It’s okay. We’re all sad: John and Jacob, even Joseph is sad sometimes.” She smiles. “I’m so thankful that you’re with Jacob, though. Most people are scared of him, but not you. You look him in the eyes.”

She turns around and takes a few more steps down the dirt path, holding Mercy’s hand as though it were glass. Then she turns back around. “Did you know that’s where the love comes from? Through the eyes. Joseph told me that. He said I should always look a person in the eyes when I’m speaking to them, to show them my love.” Mercy can feel it too, every time the girl looks at her. Faith giggles. “That’s why I’m glad you look Jacob in the eyes. He deserves to feel so much love.” Mercy nods in agreement, and Faith giggles again, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. It is an affectionate gesture, one that Mercy hadn’t been expecting. Her eyes tear up from it.

Faith gasps, pressing her hand over her heart. “I’m sorry. _I’m_ making you sad, aren’t I? I know I can be a little much sometimes.” Mercy shakes her head quickly to reassure the young woman, wiping away her tears with a forefinger. Faith smiles, close-lipped. “I don’t know if you have a voice, but if you do, I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything, and it’ll be just between us. We’re sisters now, you and I.”

“Are you trying to steal away Jacob’s girl, Faith?” Mercy jumps when she hears Joseph’s voice, turning around quickly to face him, hands smoothing down her skirt.

Faith walks past her taking Joseph’s hand within her own. “She’s wonderful, Joseph. Jacob’s so lucky to have found someone like her.”

Joseph brings her hand to his lips, lightly pressing a kiss to her knuckle. He releases his sister’s hand, looking back to Mercy. He holds a hand out to her. “Come here, child.”

Mercy can feel her legs shaking again as she hesitantly goes to him. He is almost as tall as Jacob, still the slightly smaller height does little to make him feel less daunting as he looks down at her. He tenderly grasps her shoulders, and she is surprised to feel how warm he is, despite how stony he’d been all night.

“Jacob has always been a fighter,” Joseph says, “When he was young he fought our father. He fought in the Gulf War. He fights with me now, but there’s also a different battle he’s fighting. One within himself.” She keeps her gaze fixed on his, and Mercy can feel it. _That’s where the love comes from._ “I can see a hurt in you too. A similar fight, though not quite the same.

“I see relationships like yours often. Two broken people, coming together to try and fix each other.” He closes his eyes a moment and lets out a slow breath before opening them again. “It doesn’t work often, and it can be damaging when it doesn’t. How does a broken thing fix something it does not know how to, after all?” Mercy looks to the ground to her feet, but Joseph grasps her chin softly between thumb and forefinger, lifting her gaze back to his. “But I can show you how. You can be healed through me, but you have to let me.”

Mercy feels the familiar sting of tears behind her eyes, blurring her vision as they form at her waterline. Isn’t that why she’d begged Jacob to bring her here? So that she could be healed? The guilt swirls endlessly in her mind, a tornado of shame and torment all coming together to form a deadly cocktail of melancholy. She thinks of her dad, how she’d let him die in that corner store. Her grandmother, who could never be cured no matter what Mercy tried. She even thinks on her mother, who’d died bringing into this world. This world she’d never asked to be a part of. This world that gives only to take away.

But how does she say all this to Joseph?

“I…uh…I…” she tries, but her throat is dry and closing up.

“I will not force you to speak,” Joseph says, taking her hands in his. He looks down to their joined hands, examining hers like they are the most precious things in the world. “Let your hands form the words, and God will make them clear for me.”

Mercy’s not even sure if she believes that, but still she signs. She tells him everything, weaves her remorse in front of him with her hands. She is sure that it is a dingy garment, filthy and rotten from her sins. Yet with the way he watches her, it could very well be an elegant robe of many colors woven from the finest silk. Though her anxieties are peaked within her, she does not cry, stills her hands of their shaking while she signs. And when it is all through, he does not look disappointed or disgusted with her as she’d inwardly expected. Well, perhaps she hadn’t been expecting that. He’d written in his book about acceptance and love, why should her story be any different from the others he’s heard.

Joseph lifts a hand to fold a stray piece of hair behind her ear before trailing his hands down her arms to take her hands within his own. “These wounds that have hurt you for so long, I can heal them, but you must listen to me. You must hear what I say before this war inside you can settle, even if you hate the words that leave my lips.

“Your father, your mother, your grandmother. You _must_ listen, you _must_ hear me.” Mercy swallows thickly, stomach clenching unpleasantly in anticipation of what he’ll say. “Mercy, none of it was your fault.” Her eyes widen as the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding leaves her. “It was not your fault.” She screws her eyes shut, tears streaking down her face as she shakes her head slowly. _He is lying to me,_ she thinks, _All of this is wrong._ “You need to let it go. You need to forgive yourself.”

She squeezes her lids shut tighter, though the tears still fall. She signs, hands shaking so bad she is sure that he can’t see what she’s saying, “ _I stayed in the closet like a coward while my dad was killed._ ”

“You were a child.”

“ _I never did enough for my grandmother._ ”

“There was nothing you could’ve done.”

“ _I ripped my mother apart._ ”

“It wasn’t your fault, Mercy.”

Mercy sobs loudly as she presses her face into Joseph’s chest, clutching at his vest as she cries. He gently cups her shoulders, the heat of his fingers on her skin scorching her heart. Arms wrap around her waist from behind, and she hears Faith’s happy sigh as she presses her cheek against Mercy’s back. Mercy had completely forgotten the young woman is with them, but she doesn’t feel embarrassed as her sobbing continues. All she feels is warmth, love consuming her heavy soul.

She’s completely drained and exhausted when they finally make it back to the ranch. Jacob and John are waiting outside for them. Jacob walks over as soon as he sees her, glancing suspiciously between Faith and Joseph.

“You ready to go home?” Jacob asks as Mercy looks up at him with hooded eyes, still red and puffy from crying. She nods slowly as John joins them.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mercy,” John says, grasping her offered hand within both of his. He squeezes her hand a little too hard for comfort, but she’s so out of it she doesn’t care. “Hopefully our paths will cross again in the near future.”

Faith comes to her next. She wraps her arms tightly around Mercy’s shoulders, only adding to the burning she feels pulsing inside her. When she pulls away, Faith gives her the most radiant smile Mercy’s ever seen.

Finally, Joseph takes her hands and lightly presses his forehead against her own. “Remember what I told you,” he whispers. When he pulls back, he lifts his hand to lightly stroke her cheek before releasing her and gesturing for Jacob to come to him. “Can I speak to you before you go?”

Thinking that they wish to speak in private, Mercy makes her way to Jacob’s truck. Waiting in the silence of the truck helps in soothing her nerves a little as she stares out the window over the hazy expanse of the mansion. It is not long before Jacob slides into the driver’s side and pulls out of John’s driveway.

“What did Joseph talk to you about?” Jacob asks when they’re well away from the ranch.

She stares out the window as she replies, “We talked about my family.”

Jacob hums. She hopes that he won’t press her for more details, not that he does that normally anyway. He usually just lets her do all the talking. She’s so emotionally drained, though. “He didn’t ask you to do anything for him?” he asks a few beats later, his voice rumbling dangerously.

She raises an eyebrow at his tone, turning her head slightly so she can look at him from the corner of her eye. “No. Why would he?”

He doesn’t answer her question, instead asking yet another. “And you didn’t tell Faith anything?”

“How would I?” Mercy questions, turning her body fully towards Jacob now. He is silent as they continue on their way home. She doesn’t understand what’s made him so edgy today. He’d been particularly handsy with her all throughout the day, taking any chance he could to touch her and have sex with her. Not that she minds. Still, she could tell that something was bothering him, even now. She doesn’t understand why he’s still nervous. She’d thought dinner had gone well, aside from when he’d lied to his siblings about her being an escort. She’ll have to have a talk with him about that later.

When they make it home, she’s the first to jump out of the truck, heading up the path and into his cabin. As she’s starting up a pot of coffee, hands tighten around her hips and press her hard against the counter, stealing the breath from her lungs. She whips her head around, scream dying in the back of her throat when she sees Jacob behind her.

She presses a hand against her heart, beating erratically beneath her fingers. “Jacob, you scared the life out of me.”

“You have a good time at dinner?” he asks, his tone reverberating against her spine. Something about it bothers her, and she tries to turn her head to get a better look at him. He only pushes her harder against the counter.

“Yes,” she answers honestly. Though there were some things that’d upset her, she thinks it had ended on a rather happier note than where the night had begun. She trembles as Jacob’s teeth ghost over the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck. She can’t help the arousal igniting in her core, despite how confused she is with his line of questioning.

“John _wants_ you,” he snarls, one of his hands snaking around her waist to knead her breast through the fabric of her dress. Her body reacts immediately to his touch, back arching against him, but her thoughts stall on his words.

“What do you mean?” she asks, breathlessly.

“I mean that my pretty boy baby brother wants to fuck my girl,” he growls as he nips the shell of her ear. Mercy widens her eyes, fuming from what he’s saying. When he lifts her skirt, though, hand leaving her breast to stroke her through her panties, she forgets why she should be mad at him for a moment. “ _My_ girl,” he emphasizes, moving her panties aside to dip into her wetness.

“Jake,” she breathes, crying out when he rubs her clit in circular motions. “I don’t think- “She moans when he pushes a single finger inside her. He pulls out of her a second later, making her whine as he pushes her legs farther apart with his knees. “Jacob,” she tries again. He presses hard against her shoulders when she tries to turn around again. She can hear him fumbling with his belt behind her.

“You’re _my_ girl, dammit,” he says, lining the head of his cock with her entrance and surging fully inside her. Mercy moans low in her throat as the position allows him to go deeper. “Mine, you got that?” He slams into her again and again, not giving her any time to adjust to him or letting her move against him to find her own pleasure. “No one else can have you. Say it,” he snarls on a particularly harsh thrust. “Say that you’re mine.” She’s so confused with everything that’s happening right now. She’s caught between the pleasure he’s giving her and her anger from him using her in this way, with no time to filter and distinguish between the two. Her throat closes up as he continues to thrust ruthlessly into her.

Jacob smacks her ass hard, and she whimpers when he slams into her. With the way he’s pressing her in the counter, she knows she’ll have some nasty bruises left over from this. “Say it, Mercy.”

“Y-Yours,” she forces out. He groans, thrusting into her once more before spilling inside her.

“Fuck yeah, you’re mine,” he whispers against her ear, and a blinding rage overtakes her as she shoves herself away from the counter with every ounce of strength she can muster. She gets him to move off her, and as she’s readjusting her skirt, she turns and slaps him across his cheek as hard as she can. Her palm stings from the impact, and she can already see the area reddening, but she doesn’t feel guilty. She storms past him, out the door, and to her own cabin.

She slams and locks the door before leaning back against it and crying into her hands. She is thankful that Jacob hasn’t come knocking, not wanting him to see her cry. She’s having trouble catching her breath, and her entire body is shaking she’s so angry with him.

Later in the night when sleep evades her, Mercy hears the familiar heavy footfalls of Jacob lumbering up the steps of her porch. She knows what he’s here for. Before they’d been comfortable enough to just spend the night with each other, they used to just go to the other’s cabin during the night in case of nightmares. Mercy throws the covers off herself and swings her legs off the bed. If he thinks he can just waltz on in here and expect her to _give_ him affection after the shit he pulled, he’s got another thing coming.

She stomps to the door and jerks it open just as he’s about to unlock it with his key. She suppresses the urge to feel sad for him as she crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the framing of the door. The area around his eyes is so dark, darker than normal, and his hair is in complete disarray. She can just barely see the sheen of sweat all over his face and chest as he stands on her porch in just a pair of pajama bottoms. This nightmare must’ve been a brutal thing, but she will not falter.

Jacob sighs as he looks down at her, hand coming up to massage the back of his neck. “I don’t understand what your problem is,” he says.

“You don’t?” she scoffs, disgusted. “Jacob, you fucked me like I was just some whore. Is that what I am to you? Is that why you told your family I’m an escort? To _claim_ me? Why would you even think I’d turn on you for some pretty boy with a mansion? I have given you all of my trust, and you spit it back in my face.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose as he squeezes his eyes shut. “If you don’t like it, then no one’s stopping you from leaving.”

“You’re not pulling this shit on me. I don’t want _anyone_ _else_ ,” Mercy says emphatically. “Why don’t you believe that? Don’t you want _me_?”

“What do you want from me, Mercy?” he growls, eyes snapping open and face going red from anger. “Do you want me to spill my heart out to you or something? I’m not built like that. I’m not meant for anything you’re wanting.” Her heart aches for him. The warped vision he has of himself tickles the edges of her sight with the urge to cry. She wishes he could see himself the way she does.

“Can’t you see that I don’t want someone else?” She steps out of the doorway towards him. She places her hand on his chest, fingers tangling within the sparse hair there. “I want _you_ , Jacob. The you who sat with me by the bonfire all those nights, letting me seek comfort in you. The you who went with me to Maryland so I could say my last goodbyes.” Her hand trails up his chest, past his neck, and to his cheek. “The you I’m falling in love with.” His eyes instantly widen at her words, the first time she’s ever seen Jacob look panicked and it’s because she told him she loves him. He grips her wrist tight, looking as though he wants to pull her hand away, but she can feel him lean into her touch slightly.

“Jake, it’s alright.” She smiles even though his reaction makes her heart drop. “You don’t have to say a thing.” She stands on her tip toes to place a chaste kiss on his chin, then again on his lips. “But now I think I should claim you.” He doesn’t say anything in protest as she gently takes his hand in hers and leads him into the cabin towards her bed. She kneels at the foot of the bed in front of him, trailing her fingers up and down his torso. “Do you trust me, Jacob?” she asks, barely above a whisper as she grazes her lips against a scar just above his heart. His chest billows as he breathes heavily.

He doesn’t answer her, but she smiles to herself when she sees him nod. He might not love her and may never, but she knows that he cares for her.

“Good.” She presses her lips against his chest more firmly. “Let me love you, Jacob.” She takes her time in kissing each and every scar on his chest, not wanting to miss a single one. She wants to possess him as he’d done to her. He groans when she licks a jagged scar beneath his hipbone, his fingers burying themselves in her hair.

“Take your pants off,” she commands, scooting back to the headboard as she pulls her shirt over her head. She’s left in nothing but her panties as she throws the shirt somewhere in the vicinity. As soon as Jacob pulls his pants off (Unsurprisingly, he’s gone commando.), he crawls over her and kisses her until the breath leaves her lungs. This is not what she wants, though. She presses her palms against his chest, shoving him away from her.

“No,” she says as she smirks, “It’s my turn.” She pushes him onto his back, throwing her thigh over his legs so that she’s straddling him. His cock is standing tall between them, her mouth watering from the size of him. The first time she’d seen it, she’d been worried that it wouldn’t fit inside her. But it had, and oh how he can hit her in all the right places.

Mercy bites her lip as she runs her palm lightly up the length of him. She watches in awe as his body tightens from her touch, jaw locking as he stares at her with dark eyes. She pulls down his foreskin, thumb smoothing a bead of precum all along his head. She smirks as she meets his gaze, squeezing him gently. His mouth falls open with a silent moan, his head falling back against the pillows.

She squeezes him again, completely entranced by his and her reactions. She likes having this power over Jacob, likes how he comes apart just from her touch. She tightens her hand around him, moving it up and down as he begins thrusting in time with her. She tenderly cups the heavy sacs beneath the base of him, and he tilts his head back down to watch her. His hands are pawing at her, grabbing her breasts and kneading them, toying with her nipples. She meets his lust-filled stare with her own. His mouth has fallen open slightly, his cheeks flushed with color, and he looks absolutely stunning.

He groans, stopping his hips from moving, and she knows he’s about to come. And as spectacular as it is to watch this big, powerful man peak, it isn’t something she wants. Not yet. He’d already found his release earlier when she had not. She wants them to do it together this time.

“Are you going to wait for me this time?” Mercy teases, halting in her ministrations. He sits up so that he can trail open-mouthed kisses along her throat and collarbones.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, and she finds herself surprised. Jacob Seed is not a man that apologizes for anything he does. She grasps his face in her hands, pulling him away from her so she can meet his gaze.

“I won’t let you do that to me again,” she warns. “If we fuck, we’ll do it to bring pleasure to _both_ of us, and to strengthen the bond we share.” Jacob nods, pupils dilated as he turns his face to kiss her palm and then her wrist.

“Take these off,” he says as he tugs down on the waistband of her panties. She lifts herself off him so that she can take them off the rest of the way before lowering back down onto him. She sighs when she feels his hardness press against her wet and aching core, rolling her hips against him.

“Jacob,” she moans, placing her hands on his chest. The hardness of him feels wonderful in this position, and she can even feel her folds pulsing and fluttering against him. He smirks, sliding his hands up her thighs and to her hips. His grip is deliciously bruising as he guides the rocking of her hips, sliding her along his length. She whimpers from the friction, nails digging into the flesh of his chest. It feels so good, but it isn’t enough.

She lifts herself up on her knees, and one of his hands leaves her hip to grasp his cock so he can hold himself up for her. She shifts a little more until he’s lined up with her entrance. She sinks down on him until he’s completely sheathed inside her, back arching from the feeling. She blinks her eyes open and looks down at him only to find him watching her intently, his face and body tense beneath her. She leans forward so that she can kiss him, the angle causing her to moan against his mouth.

“I love you, Jacob,” she whispers so softly as she starts to move. He screws his eyes shut as if hurt by her words as he threads and tangles his fingers in her hair.

“Look at me,” she says, her voice taking on a more pleading tone. _I will make him feel my love._ She begins moving against him with more purpose. He opens his eyes to meet hers, keeping his expression carefully blank. She is sad to admit that she doesn’t know much about his life. She hadn’t read anything about him in the Book of Joseph, and he is extremely guarded when talking about anything from his past. She knows that he won’t be able to accept her love easily, and it will be even harder for him to give it. But right now, she doesn’t mind so much. She will continue to love him, deeply, intensely, and one day he will learn. Maybe when that time comes he will love her too.

“I love you, Jake,” she says again. She cries out as her body draws closer and closer to her release. “I am yours.” She reaches out, cupping his cheek in her hand, her thumb tracing over his bottom lip. “And you are mine.” He shoots up, wrapping an arm around her waist and helping her move faster against him, the other hand coming up to grip her thigh. He nips at her lip, making her gasp, and giving him the opportunity to kiss her so deeply, so ferociously that her head is spinning. He holds her tight against him as she peaks, as he whispers words against her lips that she can barely hear or understand, as a hand trails up and down her spine. Her eyes snap open when the sensation of falling tingles through her bloodstream until her back hits the mattress and he is on top of her. She can still feel how hard he is within her as he begins thrusting inside her at a desperate pace.

“Say it,” he rasps, and for a moment her mind goes back to earlier whenever he’d taken his pleasures from her without thought to her own. But this time it is different. Instead of demanding, he almost sounds as though he’s begging her. “Say those words.”

“I love you,” she answers, and he buries his face in the junction between her shoulder and neck, biting her there and muffling his moan. Strange. It sounded almost like a sob. He comes almost immediately after, filling her up completely.

Jacob stays there on top of her for a long while, still inside her. When he finally pulls out of her and settles himself next to her, he stares at her as though she is just a figment of his imagination, hands tracing indistinguishable shapes against her skin.

“Where have you been?” he asks suddenly, voice wavering only slightly. His arms enclose around her, tightening until she is pressed against him.

“I don’t know,” Mercy answers.

“I think that I’ve been waiting for you,” he whispers, lips just barely ghosting over hers, eyes closing. “Searching for you.”

“I’m here,” she says, “I’m here.” She holds him back, just as tight, as they drift to sleep.

**Mercy Seed  
March 30, 2018 – 1:09 PM**

Mercy sighs as she presses her forehead against the hardwood of the ranch’s front door. She breathes in long and deep as she remembers that night on the ranch, the many other nights she’d spent here talking and laughing with her family. Of all the places they could’ve taken Nick Rye’s plane, and they’d brought it here. The ranch had been swarming with Peggies when she showed up, as she expected. This place is probably one of the hotspots John had expected her to come to.

The outpost had been difficult for her to take. Every time she took one Peggie down, another would show up in some other random part of the mansion. Still she and Boomer managed somehow. She lifts her head, looking down at the dog panting happily at her side. She gently scratches him behind the ear, letting out a breathless laugh when he starts tapping his foot and leaning into her fingers.

She’s still waiting on the Resistance members to show so that they can hold the place. The mansion is eerily quiet, and she half expects John to jump her when she’s got her back turned. Though, she knows he’s probably in his bunker right now. After all, the Collapse has begun. At any moment the world could just burst into flames, and the Seeds need to be ready. She shudders, pulling open the door and going inside.

Mercy stopped going to the dinners after the video had been released. Though not much has changed since last she visited. She looks around at the various animals, skinned and stuffed and mounted, about the living and dining area. Jacob had told her once that he’d killed them all and John had kept the trophies. All manner of books line the walls, too. She’d borrowed and read some of them. She wonders if John has also read them, or if he keeps them just to show off. She’d never asked, and she feels guilty for not making an effort to get to know her brother-in-law. She knows so much about Faith and Joseph and yet nothing of John.

Well, now that will change.

A part of her feels mortified about looking through his things in an attempt to learn everything she can about him, anything that will help her save him. John is still her brother. The idea of searching through his personal belongings makes her sick to her stomach. When she gets into the dining room, her eyes widen in surprise. His dining area has been decked out like some kind of armory. There are ammo crates stacked high here and there, bullet-proof vests, she even finds a rocket launcher of all things on the dining table. At the end of the table, a few files have been laid out, particularly hers and Joey’s from the department. There are all kinds of sticky notes that are stuck all over their pages, John’s cursive handwriting too illegible for her to make out anything that he’s put. _Damn._

On the other end of the table is his phone, a white box-shaped thing that most of the residents of Hope County have. The little red light on the front keeps flashing, indicating that there’s a message on it. She circles around the table and presses the button to play the message.

“After all the atonements, all the confessions, and all that you have done for me and Eden’s Gate it’s not enough. Is it, John?” Mercy sucks in a breath when she hears Joseph’s voice. “Cast away your past. You need to open up your heart. You need to see that there is more love all around you. All the pain and suffering you spread will not help us in the long run. These actions will only feed the sin inside you. It will grow stronger. It will convince you to do wicked things. Those you scar too deeply, they will heal. They will become carriers of your sin. They will spread that sin to others. I’ve seen your death in a vision. You’re destined to be slayed by your own sin. It will come back around in a new form. It’s only a matter of when. I’ve seen you die young, I’ve seen you die old. The difference between the two outcomes is how much love you let into your heart. I pray that you hear these words before it’s too late. I want to see you become an old man in the paradise we prepared for. I love you, brother. I love you.”

Her heart feels heavy when the message ends. She really should’ve talked to him more, but Jacob would’ve never let it happen. She remembers everything she’d read of John in the Book of Joseph. She can’t imagine how difficult it would be to let go of all the terrible things he’d been through. She has a hard enough time moving past her own issues.

Mercy sighs, slumping down in a chair. She knows that this is her key to helping him, but how is she supposed to execute years of work in such a short time? How can she succeed where Joseph, John’s flesh and blood, cannot? She groans, burying her face in her hands. _Fuck, I should’ve talked to John._ There’s no way she can do this. Joseph is the one who knows how to heal, she just destroys. Destroys her family, Hope County, her life.

_No,_ she thinks to herself, _I can’t keep beating myself up. I’m doing good._ She needs to remember why she’s doing this, needs to stay on her path. She can’t give in to them.

By the time Resistance members start trickling onto the property, she’s already searched the place. Of course, she finds nothing of importance. The only other personal item there is a letter to Joseph. Leave it to John to make sure nothing can be found in his home that the Deputy can use against him. She greets her people, silently directing each one to their tasks: guard duty, watching the prisoners, cataloguing the weapons.

She’s on her way to the hangar, about to fly Nick’s plane off into the sunset (technically returning it to him, but she let’s herself imagine) when her radio beeps to life, scaring the life out of her. “You take homewrecking to a new level, don’t you?” She recognizes John’s silky tone immediately. “I would expect no less of a sinner.”

Mercy swallows thickly as she rounds the corner of the hangar, unclipping the radio from her belt as she leans back against the wall. She turns the frequency, typing _test_ on each one. She doesn’t know how John got ahold of her radio frequency. Finally, he responds when she calls through channel two. Joey’s frequency. She lets out a breath through her nose. Of course, she should’ve thought he’d have access to her partner’s radio.

“Ah, there you are. Always so _shy_ ,” he teases, and it stings to hear the venom in his voice. “But we both know who you really are, don’t we, _Deputy_? Sin is inescapable, after all. I’ve felt that sin inside me too, _still_ feel it. Me and you, we are one in the same, and just like me, you too can be forgiven. You can still march with us to Eden’s Gate.” Mercy screws her eyes shut as she presses her forehead against the radio, as if John can somehow feel her through the frequency. “I can still cleanse your soul. I can give you freedom from the burden you carry on your shoulders.” The words are comforting; they make her heart soar and offer her the hope of absolution. But she can hear the strain in his voice, the malicious underlining of his tone. “All you have to do is confess. There will be pain and it will be difficult for you to let go, but you will be cleansed. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted all this time?”

She can’t answer him, does not. What does she say to him? There is just so much. He hums in disapproval on the other end. “If you will not come to me willingly, then I will just have to send my Chosen after you. I will have you soon, _Deputy_. A word of warning: don’t fight back. That will only make it harder for you.”

She snaps the radio back to her belt, glancing around herself warily. She goes inside the hangar. She needs to get in the air fast. They can’t take her out in the air; it’ll kill her, and she’s still a Seed. She knows they want her _alive_ , at least.

“Hoorah, Deputy!” Nick shouts over her radio when she figures out how to get the plane going. “I just heard on the Peggie radio some intruder made off with my plane! You need to get some distance. Just head north for now.”

Mercy tightens a white-knuckled grip on the joystick, nerves tingling from more than just the fear of crashing the plane. She tries to tell herself that the only reason they’re saying that is because she liberated Seed Ranch just hours ago, but she can’t shake the unsettling feeling creeping down her spine that someone is watching her. Waiting to strike.


	10. Jacob Seed III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!
> 
> So first and foremost, I want to apologize that it took so long for me to write this chapter. I recently moved into my own house and for a while I was really depressed on account of being alone for a bit and also not feeling like I was home yet. Then school started up again and that made it worse. However, I've gotten more used to my house since then so hopefully the depression won't be too much.
> 
> I would like to thank everyone who's read and left such wonderful comments. It may seem silly, but it really brightens my day when I get feedback on my fics. For those of you that are still sticking around even though it's been a couple months since my last update, I want to thank you so much for being patient with me. I will try my hardest to keep updates as regular as possible.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

**August 21, 2008 – 2:17 PM**

The evening after Jacob catches his neighbor swimming, she comes to him. Literally approaches him after he’s gotten back from fixing his truck on the side of the road, holding a plate of cookies in her hands and shaking like it’s cold outside. Without a word, she shoves the plate in his hands then walks back into her own cabin, leaving him standing there without any clue as to what exactly just happened. She does the same thing the next day, except she brings him some sort of sandwich with lobster on it. He has no idea where she got the lobster from in the outback of Montana, but it’s been cooked to perfection.

When he comes home from church one Sunday afternoon, she’s left a knit navy blue beanie on the railing of his porch. It’s so long that he’ll need to fold the brim to wear it properly. He immediately recognizes that it’s the knitting project she’s been working on. There are clear mistakes, but the stitching is strong, and he can’t help but admire her craftsmanship.

Then one night, he brings an armload of firewood to her shed only to find that it’s full. He’s not surprised. He knew at some point he wouldn’t need to chop anymore wood for her. Still, he can’t very well just leave this debt unpaid. Though, is it really a debt? He had not asked her to cook for him, had not wanted her to do _anything_ for him. He just wants to be left alone.

Yet just a few moments later, there he is, digging out a firepit in between their cabins. He gathers up large rocks at the shoreline of the lake to line the edges of the hole. Then he sets a large log down next to the pit; a table to put her coffee on while she sits next to the fire. Finally, he sets a pile of freshly chopped firewood next to the pit, then leaves it there for her to find later.

And she does find it the following night. Jacob watches her from the darkness of his cabin as she walks out at her usual time, holding a mug of coffee in one hand and dragging her lawn chair behind her. She walks towards where she usually makes her fire and stops short when she sees the pit.

She turns her head towards his cabin, hair dancing in the light breeze. He knows there’s no way she can see him watching her through the window, and still she smiles, a spellbinding radiant smile the likes of which he’s never seen on another person. It only lasts for a moment, but he sees _her_ in that short moment: who she really is underneath her silence, who she was before she came to Hope County, who someday she could become again. And he’s completely entranced by her, trapped within her web.

The next day as Jacob’s skinning a wolverine on his porch, she brings him another one of those lobster sandwiches and a tall glass of some kind of iced berry tea. He looks up at her, raising a brow with his knife still poised underneath the animal’s fur at its belly. He can tell that she’s disgusted by the sight and smell of the dead animal, face going milky white and nose scrunching, but she still smiles sweetly at him as she places the drink and plate on the porch, far enough away that it won’t get dirty from the corpse. Then she turns swiftly and goes back to her cabin.

A strange warm feeling swells in his chest from her smile, something he only feels with his brothers. When she’d smiled at him, she’d looked at him as though he were just a man. And maybe that is what he really is, but most people treat him like a monster to be avoided at all costs. And fuck them, they should be scared of him.

But not her, it seems. To her, he’s just a guy who she brings food to. It almost makes him feel…normal. _Is this even what normal is supposed to be?_ Everything about his life – past, present, and future – is so fucked that he’s not even sure. For the longest time, he thought that life is all just meaningless. A means to an end. He’d spend the rest of his life out here in the mountains waiting to die for his brother’s holy war, waiting for the antichrist to come and kill him. And he’ll die happily and peacefully for his brother.

He’s not looking for a relationship. Knowing what he knows of his future, he recognizes that it would not only be needlessly cruel for his partner, but it would also become a weakness for him. That’s the last thing he wants. But maybe…a companion?

Could he possibly see this strange silent neighbor of his as a friend?

_I don’t even know her name._ Jacob can practically hear Joseph chastising him in his thoughts for being so antisocial, so rude to someone who’s been so friendly. The thought makes him scoff, tugging on the skin of the wolverine too hard. Fuck that. Neighborly and friendly isn’t who he is.

Still, the phantom scoldings of his younger brother nag him at the back of his mind, and he wonders if somehow Joseph can see all this just like he can see his prophesies. If this is how Joseph has been able to command others to do his will almost blindly, if only to make this maddening badgering stop. So Jacob resigns himself to giving his neighbor his name. He will break down this barrier within himself, to please his brother. _It is the will of the Father, it seems._

And so it is, because as he’s starting to skin another wolverine, she drags a second lawn chair over to the firepit. She positions it on the other side of the makeshift table, so that they each have equal access to it. He watches her, dumbfounded. Had Joseph somehow spoken to her as well? He feels his heart rate steadily rise. Is this really what Joseph wants from him? To join her at the campfire tonight?

That sounds so unbelievable and so farfetched, but… Jacob shakes his head. _No._ He’s worked years building up this shell around himself, and this random woman is trying to pull it all apart. Maybe she’s just being nice, or maybe she’s out to get ‘em for some reason, he doesn’t know. But he’s sure he should just left her alone. It’s better that way, anyway, for all parties involved.

Later that night as she places a cup of coffee down on her little table and sits down across from the other lawn chair, he watches her. He watches her from the darkness of his windows as she pulls her feet up on the chair and hugs her arms around her knees. As she stares blankly into the fire, blinking every so often. As she waits for him. Her shoulders bob up before crashing back down and a heavy sigh escapes her.

Then she reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a small yellow radio. She turns a knob on the front, and rock music plays through the speakers before setting it down on the table next to her coffee. She picks the mug up and takes a sip before setting it down and turning the knob again. It’s a bit of an older station, playing some old blues music. She stays on that station for a little longer before changing it to the Eden’s Gate station.

_What is she doing?_ He wonders, as she holds the mug of coffee in her hands and takes light sips. As he watches her he feels a burning knotting itself up in the pit of his stomach. She looks so…disappointed. So defeated.

He shakes his head and runs his hands down his face. He stands abruptly from his chair, making it scrape across the wood floor, loud enough for her to hear and jump from it. He marches back to his bed, and lies down, determined to fall asleep and forget this madness. _He’ll_ decide when he wants to meet her. He never asked for her to be so friendly to him. Why should he care if her feelings are hurt?

_I am strong,_ he thinks to himself, a sick lullaby. _The world is weak._

**March 30, 2018 – 10:12 PM**

Jacob stands at the edge of the river, watching as the moon glitters over the water’s surface. To his right, the Silver Lake Bridge stands tall, casting its dark shadow over him. To his left, the river flows onward separating his and John’s territories. He takes in a deep breath, the scents of the Mountains filling his senses. He closes his eyes, trying to will his thoughts to quiet.

The first place he’d gone as soon as he’d gotten the chance was his and his wife’s cabin. Of course, when he got there, everything looked like the way they’d left it. He didn’t know why he’d expected her to be there, had hoped to walk through the door and see her laying in their bed. He wanted to be angry with her, and he _is_ angry with her. But being in their cabin surrounded by her scent and her things fills him with a longing. He just wants her back. He Just wants her near so that he can hold her, touch her, protect her.

He’d tried contacting her using Peaches’ radio, but it was no use no matter how much he tried. She couldn’t hear him. The frequencies on the radios are so finicky, she’ll likely need to be in the Mountains before he’ll be able to contact her. That’s when he’d gotten his plan.

Jacob’s thoughts are interrupted when a wet snout nudges his fist. He opens his eyes and looks down, meeting the gaze of one of his Judges. Delilah. Unlike his other Judges, her fur is fluffy and clean, with barely any scarred or bloody patches. And she’s kept her tail at Jacob’s request. Though, her eyes still have that milky green glow from the Bliss serum and the red cross all the other Judges have stains the fur on her face. Her being female is also a unique quality. Usually Jacob will keep the females separated from the other Judges for breeding purposes, but Delilah is vicious. Far more aggressive than all his other Judges.

And she is the one who he’s chosen to protect and find Mercy.

He looks back across the river, beyond to where the Whitetail Mountains end and Holland Valley begins. He’s heard chatter over the station about his wife’s escapades. How she’d singlehandedly took back Dutch’s Island. How she’d liberated Fall’s End and took over John’s Ranch. Jacob’s not surprised by the success she’s achieved in so little time. When she puts her mind to something, she can attain almost anything.

But she doesn’t realize what she’s doing. He sighs. He’s always hated her strong moral compass. It’s always made her act without thinking, without seeing the greater picture. Well, he’s going to _make_ her understand. She _will_ come back to him, willingly or no, even if he has to drag her back here himself. However, it would be better for everyone if Mercy just returns to him without any fuss, to seek the forgiveness of the Father and her Family.

Which is why he’s presenting her with a choice. He kneels next to the wolf, making sure the tracking collar is secure around her neck. With this, he’ll be able to keep track of his wife’s movements as the wolf follows her.  Jacob then reaches into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He’s not much for feelings, never has been. Feeling makes you weak, distracts you from your survival, but he knows how Mercy operates. He knows the true nature of Mercy’s soul. Where he is death and violence, she is compassion and kindness. Perhaps she will be moved if he shows her the love he _feels_ for her in his heart, how _hurt_ he is from what she’s done.

Perhaps she will come home to him.

He secures the note to the wolf’s collar, hoping that his wife is the one who receives the message. Finally, he pulls one of Mercy’s shirts (one usually worn when she’s out hunting or hiking) out from his pocket. He holds the garment up for Delilah to smell. Mercy’s scent is so strong, it’s making him dizzy with the want, the _need_ for his wife to be here.

“Find her for me, Delilah,” Jacob whispers, “Bring her home to me.”

The wolf looks at him with that blank, Blissed-up stare all the Judges possess before turning away from her master and wading into the water without a second glance. He watches her until she emerges on the other side of the river and disappears over the top of the hill. He lets out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair before climbing back over the ridge to the street.

A knot of dread bunches up at the back of his throat painfully, knowing that the situation is out of his hands now. Mercy is out of his reach, wreaking havoc throughout the Valley and likely causing John a world of annoyance. As he pulls himself into the driver’s seat of his truck, anxious to get back to the Veterans’ Center, he finds himself second guessing his plan. Though, he knows he has little room to do anything outside of the Mountains. Joseph has always been adamant on not allowing any of the siblings to “meddle” in each other’s regions, without the Father’s explicit permission or orders. Unless Mercy comes to the Whitetail Mountains, Jacob can’t do anything. He’s taking a huge risk sending Delilah into the Valley, to follow his wife wherever she may go, but he’s been so beside himself with worry that he doesn’t know what else he can do to ease his troubled thoughts.

Jacob pulls into the drive of the Veterans’ Center minutes later, the euphoric tune of “Only You” blasting over the speakers and echoing off the jagged cliffs of the basin surrounding his base. The song is starting to grate on his ears, but he won’t risk a surprise attack from the Whitetails. Should any indoctrinated Whitetails approach the compound, they’ll go into a killing frenzy, slaughtering any comrades around them. Jacob feels more comfortable here in the Center which is why he’s chosen to stay here instead of in his bunker as Joseph had commanded all the siblings to do when the Reaping began. Jacob feels more vulnerable within the bunker, trapped. There are no windows to look out to the world, and it can be far too quiet sometimes with nothing but the deadly hum of the innerworkings in the walls. The fluorescent lights give him headaches too. Out here, though, he can smell the freshness of the green when he wakes up, can feel the sun warm his skin. He can enjoy being a part of this Earth before his wife kills him.

_Only you can make all this change in me,  
For it’s true, you are my destiny._

He growls low in his throat, cutting the engine and pinching the bridge of his nose. He opens the door and slides out, immediately met by one of his soldiers. They’ve brought more prisoners in, more souls that require sacrifice. Two civilians, a group of Whitetails, and a deserter, claiming to be going to Holland Valley with his sister to join Mercy’s Resistance. The sister had been able to flee, but they would continue searching for her. Jacob would call John in the morning to be on the lookout for her, then he’d go _talk_ to the traitor.

His man ends the conversation with a salute, before returning to his post. Jacob purses his lips together, thinking on his duties as he makes his way into the Center. Perhaps one of these prisoners will fulfill Mercy’s purpose in her stead, but he knows that would go against everything Joseph prophesied. Despite all that’s happened these past couple days, he still can’t bring himself to believe that his wife would harm anyone in their family. Mercy’s heart is full to the brim with love; he’s not sure she could ever truly hate someone even if she tried.

Yet they’d still found the body. _Her sin is wrath,_ he’d heard John whisper that night in the church after they’d discovered a dead man in one of the houses Mercy’d hid in. He hadn’t meant for anyone to hear it, but Jacob heard all the same.

_Only you and you alone can thrill me like you do,  
And fill my heart with love for only you._

The music crashes through his thoughts when he opens the door to his command room. This room also happens to be the one that he sleeps in; a twin sized bed with nothing but a blanket and pillow is pushed against the east wall, just to the left of the balcony door. It’s here where he can look over the mountains whenever he pleases.

He sighs as he takes a seat at one of the desks, looking over reports from his outposts. Mercy would’ve loved gazing over the lake and mountains from the balcony. He isn’t even sure if she holds any love left for him in her heart, whether she holds love for any of her family. If only he’d just explained everything for her…but she still wouldn’t have understood. He isn’t sure what he believes anymore. He just wants her by his side. With everything that’s happened, he wonders how likely that scenario can be.

Joseph has seen the future. Prophesied Jacob’s death by the hands of Mercy.

Perhaps, this is Jacob’s punishment to die by his wife’s hand. He can sometimes imagine it, the woman who’s made him weak leaning over him with the knife he gave her poised at his throat, eyes burning with a seething hatred before she drains him of his blood. It is the least he deserves after all the sins he’s committed against his family, after failing his brothers and lying to his wife and forcing her into this mess. After all the lives he’s broken and pain he’s wrought across the Mountains.

Had Joseph’s prophesy been wrong? Had Hell really followed Jacob all along?

_Only you can make all this world seem right,  
Only you can make the darkness bright._

A vein throbs at his temple as he stands and slams the balcony doors shut and locks them. The joyful booming vocals are reduced to just a hum, but it does little to ease the headache that’s just come on. Jacob sits on the edge of his bed, pulling a cigarette from his pack. He takes a deep inhale as he lights it, reaching over for his ashtray as he lets out the smoke. The calm immediately washes through his blood stream, but still his thoughts resonate noisily in his skull.

His crestfallen thoughts are interrupted when he hears a knock on his door. “What is it?” he asks, gruffly.

His door opens, and he stands so he can chew out whoever it is entering his room without permission. His words die in his throat when he sees Joseph enter. “Good evening, brother,” Joseph greets. Jacob nods in reply, and Joseph approaches him, about to embrace him until he sees the lit cigarette in between Jacob’s fingers. Joseph stops short, glaring at the thing like he could disintegrate it with his gaze alone. “You know I hate it that you smoke,” he chastises, nose scrunching from the fetid smell, “And you’re smoking _inside_.”

“What are you, my wife?” Jacob scoffs. He’d meant it as a joke, but his chest burns when he imagines Mercy, wishing that she were standing where Joseph is now. He shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck while taking another drag from his cigarette. “Anyway, _no smoking_ isn’t in your rules, so I’m not gonna stop.”

Joseph furrows his brows, tilting his head to the side. “Tobacco is poison to the lungs, you shouldn’t have started in the first place.”

“We’re all going to die either way. So, why does it matter?” Jacob says without thinking. Joseph’s eyebrows raise only slightly to show his surprise before his expression goes bleak. He turns his face to the floor, avoiding Jacob’s stare. “Did you only come here to reprimand me?”

“No,” Joseph answers, “I came because I need to tell you something, and it will be better coming from me.” Jacob raises a brow as he takes another drag and lets the smoke out slowly. “John has Mercy.”

Jacob’s eyes widen, and his hand stops in its place as he’s about to take another draw. _Mercy is…_ His mind cannot even fully comprehend it right now. All he can think about is having her near him again, having her sleep beside him and touch him. “Is she alright?” he asks, snuffing his cigarette in the ashtray as he stands.

“She’s been shot with a Bliss bullet, but she’s fine otherwise,” Joseph says. “They captured her near Rye and Sons Aviation.”

“Good.” Jacob puts the ashtray back on the table before moving to the door, but Joseph lifts a hand to his chest, stilling his older brother’s movements.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get my wife back.” His tone is dangerously low, like steel on stone.

Joseph frowns. “Jacob, she _must_ atone.”

“Bullshit,” he growls, hands tightening into fists at his sides. “John can get his own wife to cut into.”

He tries to push past Joseph, but his younger brother is quick to block his path. “You still don’t understand, do you? After all I’ve told you would happen, _has_ happened…” Joseph’s voice starts to raise, but he clears his throat and shakes his head. He starts again, in a calmer tone, “You know how this is supposed to go.”

“She just doesn’t understand,” Jacob explains, “If I could just see her…If you could talk to her then maybe- “

“She won’t understand,” Joseph says curtly. “I hadn’t realized she’s made you so soft.”

Jacob’s blood rushes to his ears, eyes darkening. “I haven’t gone soft.”

Joseph sighs, expression softening as he lifts his hands to lay them on his brother’s shoulders. “Jacob, I tried to save her soul… I tried to change her fate, _our_ fate, but that is not the way God wants this to play out.” He meets Jacob’s gaze, calming waters colliding with a raging storm. “I’ll remind you that this is her _purpose_.” Jacob glares to the floor, teeth grinding against each other as his jaw clenches. “You need to let her make her _sacrifices_.”

Jacob pulls his shoulders back. He’s finding it more and more difficult to keep his face unfeeling and cold. “It’s the will of the Father, is it?” He’s mocking Joseph, but his younger brother simply nods. Jacob takes in a deep breath, the weight only getting heavier as he breathes out. _Joseph is right,_ he knows. He’s known for a long while how this would all come to pass. Mercy’s already started the Collapse, just as Joseph predicted. She’s launched her rebellion and is taking Hope County back. And John is her first target.

He squeezes his eyes shut, tilting his head back as his throat tightens. _This is all too much._ He should’ve never talked to Mercy. He should’ve chased her out of that cabin when she showed up. She should’ve stayed far away from Hope County. She should’ve stayed in Maryland and found someone else that could give her the life she deserves. She could’ve never been here to kill him and his brothers. Perhaps Joseph’s prophecy could’ve been wrong.

“Come back to me, brother,” Joseph says, breaking Jacob from his panic attack. He places his hands on Jacob’s shoulders, and the older brother’s hands come to do the same out of instinct. Joseph presses his forehead to Jacob’s, and Jacob feels the calm that reaches inside him and calms the erratically beating chambers of his heart. “You must be strong.”

Jacob lets out a deep breath, eyes closing and mouth hanging open slightly. “Do what you need to,” he says, voice grating against his throat. He opens his eyes to look at Joseph, his eyes shining with empathy and making Jacob’s ears redden in shame. Still, he endures these looks from Joseph, as he’d learned to accept these same looks from Faith and John and Mercy. Mercy most of all.

Joseph nods his head, and his hands leave Jacob’s shoulders. “I will ensure that John does not hurt her more than is necessary.”

_He better not hurt her,_ but he keeps these thoughts to himself as Joseph leaves, knowing that they’ll only fall on deaf ears. _This is the way it must be,_ he reminds himself. _Mercy has to fulfill her purpose._

For, even the weak have their purpose, but Jacob knows that she’s far from weak.


	11. John Seed I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I love John, but he can't very well fuck Mercy in this fic so...this is happening instead. Writing John's POV is actually pretty fun, though.
> 
> I wanted to thank all of you for the wonderful comments in the last chapter. I'm honestly so shook with how much positive feedback I've gotten, and it fills me with joy to see you guys enjoying my writing. Y'all are super amazing.
> 
> Loves and hugs, erybody.

**March 22, 2018 – 2:42 AM**

They’ve been searching for Mercy for hours, and there’s still no sign of her anywhere.

Jacob called John a little before midnight, telling him that Mercy was gone. John had never heard his older brother so distraught before. He’s so used to Jacob being the most calm and collected out of the brothers. Well…maybe not the _calmest_. That would be Joseph. Still, Jacob’s not really the type to be panicked. The only time John’s seen his brother so hysterical was when Jacob would have his nightmares, screaming in the middle of the night, eyes wild and dark.

Jacob had come home after the church service to find Mercy gone without a trace, and after a couple hours of waiting and searching of his own he’d grown worried. He’d called both John and Faith to search for her, and they haven’t come up with anything. John’s blood burns even as he walks through the doors of his ranch to call it a night. He’s pegged Mercy for a lot of things: a slut, a liar, two-faced for sure, but a runner has never been one of them.

And he’s angry. Angry that this backstabbing whore has gone back on her vows to his brother. Angry that she’s abandoned them before the Collapse. Angry that she’s added more onto his already growing frustration.

After all these years, her true colors have finally shown. She’s tricked all of them…even John. Jacob thinks something horrible has happened to her, but John knows better. He knows enough about the human condition to know that she’s left them.

John sighs as he walks up the stairs, fingers lightly grazing over the dust on the railing. The ranch is due for a bit of cleaning, but he briefly wonders if it would be worth it, with the end of the world steadily approaching. When they come out of the bunkers, everything will be gone, anyway. Nothing left behind but ashes and memories. They will emerge into a new Eden, a promised land made for him and his Family. They will be given a second chance at life, to build the world anew.

Shame on Mercy for not wanting to be a part of that. For leaving his brother. For leeching the love and affection from them and leaving them dry and wanting. If they should find her…John will make her suffer. He will bleed her until she is crying out her sins to him, until she atones, until she says _yes_.

When John enters his room, he is surprised to find someone waiting for him in his bed. Holly rises from beneath the covers, blankets falling from her exposed chest and pale blond hair ruffled from the pillow.

“What are you doing here?” John asks. “I told you to leave.” He is agitated with her disobedience, but still his hands pull at his coat, laying it on the armchair in the corner of the room.

“I was _about_ to,” she answers.

“Until?” John begins working his fingers across the buttons of his vest.

“Until I heard you pull up.” Holly kneels on her knees in front of him, the comforter pooling around her knees. “I thought maybe you’d want me.” Her fingertips glide over the smooth skin of his chest, fingernails grazing over the angry _~~SLOTH~~_ carved into his flesh.

He catches her wrist in his hand, shoving her back onto the mattress. “ _Sinner_. Look at you, so wanton and needy.” After freeing himself of his vest, he crawls over the bed until he’s laying next to her. He runs a hand down her side over the swell of her hip and hooks his arm beneath her knee to hike her leg around his waist. “Perhaps, I should give you another lust tattoo. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Holly gasps as he dips his head down to graze his teeth along her jaw and neck. “ _Yes_ , John.”

“Good,” his voice rumbles as he nips and sucks at her pulse point. She hums, and he shifts ever downwards until he can place openmouthed kisses on her collarbone, his hand leaving her knee to grip her thigh harshly.

“Did you find her?” she asks. He bites her collarbone hard, causing her to gasp and cry out. He soothes the teeth marks with his tongue, the delicate skin coloring from his ministrations. Her fingers entangle in his hair as she holds his head to her chest. As he moves down to her breast, her hips grind into the hard muscles of his stomach.

“You’re so greedy.” John’s lips lightly graze over her nipple as one hand comes up to grasp at her throat. His other hand squeezes the soft flesh of her thigh before sliding around and teasing her dripping slit with his knuckles. His blood screams for him to just flip her over and fuck her already, but John will not show the same greed as Holly does. He is a giving lover, after all.

“I want you,” Holly moans, tilting her head so that she can press her lips to the crown of his head. “But Mercy…” He growls as he squeezes her throat. She gasps for air as he encloses his lips around her nipple, flicking the tip of her rosy bud with his tongue.

“Enough about her. She doesn’t matter right now,” he argues. He presses his fingers against her mound, stroking her wetness until his fingers are coated in her sweetness. Her hips buck into his touch.

“ _Oh_ , that feels so good,” she cries as her back arches.

Just as he’s about to push her onto her back and finger her ‘til she’s screaming, the phone rings. She whines when his hand leaves her cunt to reach for the phone on his nightstand. “Do you really have to answer that right now?”

His hand leaves her throat to tug at her nipple, hard enough that she winces. “It could be the Father. Are you so much of a slut that you can’t wait?” He doesn’t give her time enough to answer him before he picks the phone up from the receiver and presses it to his ear. “Hello?” All there is on the other end of the line is heavy breathing. “Who is this?” he tries again. Still the other person doesn’t answer him. With a tsk of frustration, he slams the phone back on its base.

“Who was it?” Holly asks, hands gliding down and popping open the buttons on his shirt.

“No one,” John growls under his breath, pushing her over until she’s on her back. He pushes himself up on his knees, his hand going back to tormenting her core.

“Oh, John,” she moans, making him laugh breathlessly.

“Are you going to sing for me?” he teases, his other hand kneading her breast as he continues to work her. “I’m sure I’d like to hear it while you come.”

Holly’s throat bobs, and he feels her shiver beneath him. She lifts her hands to his chest, fingers dancing over his heated skin. He tenses from her soft touch as her fingernails explore the dips and curves of his muscles. As her fingertips lightly outline the colorful ink of his tattoos. She gives him a smug grin, and he refuses to let her have the upper hand. He pushes a finger deep inside her, causing her to cry out, closing her eyes and pressing her head back into the pillow.

“You’ll never win at this game, my dear.” He smirks down at her, pumping his finger in and out of her at a steady pace.

“Perhaps- _oh yes_!” Her words immediately cut off with a moan when he adds a second finger. “Oh, God, yes!”

“Taking the Lord’s name in vain,” John tsks, leaning over to nip the shell of her ear. “The list of your sins just keeps growing.”

“ _Oh, God_ ,” she moans again.

With a self-satisfied chuckle, John drags his teeth across her jaw as he lifts his head to look into her deep indigo eyes. She keeps her gaze locked onto his, the low lighting in his room and the darkening lust building within her making her eyes look purple.

The phone starts ringing again, and he pushes his head against Holly’s chest letting out a groan. He pulls his fingers from her harshly, making her gasp as he jerks the phone off it’s receiver. “Who is this? What do you want?” he snarls, ears going red from his wrath.

“John?” He almost doesn’t recognize the watery rasping voice on the other end, until he remembers Jacob’s wedding night when Mercy had spoken to him the first and only time.

“Mercy,” he gasps, eyes widening a little in shock. He shakes his head to bring him back to the present, angling the phone so he can hold it to his ear with his shoulder. His first instinct is to call her every horrible name he can think of, but for Jake’s sake John tries to handle the situation with a little more finesse. “Where have you been? Jacob’s been looking for you. Do you have any idea how much trouble we’ve been going through trying to find you?” He pelts her with the questions while he buttons up his shirt and gathers his vest and coat. He can hear Holly groan in indignation.

Mercy makes a pathetic noise, somewhere between a sob and a cough. “P- Please, John. I just need…I just need…” He hears a muffled cry before she starts again. “I need you to take me home. I’m…I’m in Fall’s End. Please, John.”

John listens dubiously as she stutters out her hysterics. She sounds so…remorseful. Could she possibly be wanting to confess to him? He knows that Jacob has forbid him from so much as laying a single scrape on her, but if she were to come to him of her own accord, why should John refuse her? At least he will be able to wash the sin from her soul, lift this burden off of her, make her prove her devotion to the Father once and for all. Perhaps he could show her where it is her loyalties are supposed to lie.

However, he’s not sure he can help her. “I can’t go into Fall’s End,” John says. “The Father has forbidden me from going near the town until the Reaping.” It is true, after the incident with Mary May, Joseph thought that it would be better for the Project if John left the town alone. John is confused with why Mercy is there, though. She shouldn’t have any reason to go there unless she was seeing someone or going to the Spread Eagle. Either way, she isn’t there for any just reasons he’s sure.

“I…I can meet you outside,” Mercy reasons, “We can meet- we can meet out by the water. Please, John.”

John nods to himself as he finishes righting his clothes. “I’ll be there soon, but you better be where you say you are, and don’t keep me waiting.” He hangs up the phone without another word. He gathers up Holly’s clothes strewn about the floor before tossing them back to her. “Duty calls, my dear. Now, I must really ask you to leave.”

Holly’s brows furrow clearly hurt by his sudden leaving. “Really? Just like that you’re leaving?”

“Just like that,” John confirms, “Now get dressed and leave. I’m serious, I _don’t_ want you here when I return.”

John turns to leave, but stops short when Holly blurts out, “I know you feel something for her.”

John turns back to her slowly, the pounding in his ears drowning out all his other senses. “What?”

“Jacob’s wife. Mercy. You cried out her name once when we were…” Holly replies meekly, cheeks flushing. John slowly takes a step towards her. “At first I thought I’d just imagined it because you didn’t seem fazed at all. I mean you were looking me in the eyes when you did it, but you’d said it so clearly.” Holly sighs before steeling her expression, indigo eyes glowing like dark sapphires in her envy. John takes another step. “I’ll have you know, I’m not in the habit of sharing. If there’s something going on, I want it to stop.”

John lets out a chuckle. _Poor pretty Holly._ He is standing right in front of her now, leaning over her smaller frame. He places a soft, gentle kiss to the crown of her head. “My dear, you are in no position to make demands.”

His hand slides up between her breasts and clasps around her throat.

**March 31, 2018 – 12:08 AM**

“The Cleansing is ready to commence, Brother John,” one of the Peggies tells him.

John sits in the passenger seat of the van, the comforting weight of the Book of Joseph in his lap. His fingers lightly graze over the Project’s radiant star on the cover, the edges of the pages glittering silver in the soft moonlight. Just at the edge of the water, the sinful souls who he’s marked wait to be cleansed.

One of them is Mercy. The same woman who betrayed them and attempted to separate Joseph from his brothers once again. It was only a matter of time until John caught her, but he wishes he could’ve done it sooner. In just a couple days, she’s undone years of hard work and preparation. He will make her pay for that, for everything she’s done.

When he pushes himself out of the vehicle, he immediately feels the light Bliss buzz fill his brain. The water has most of the drug, having already been treated with it, but the aroma wafts through the air. It’s no matter. John is accustomed to it, has been around the Bliss long enough that it hardly has any effect on him unless it is actively blown in his face. A memory of Mary May pouring a bottle of Bliss dust over his face has him flushing in anger.

He watches as the marked are guided into the water. There are not as many here as he’d hoped; only three in this group. That makes spotting Mercy all the easier. She is standing at the edge of the water, one of the Peggies at her side, gently grasping her arm. Her eyes scan her surroundings until they land on John. Oh, how deliciously repentant she looks with her eyes glassy and mouth hanging open. She moves to approach him, but the Peggy at her side holds her back. It’s strange. She should still be high from the Bliss bullet. She shouldn’t be so aware of anything that’s happening. John shakes his head, ignoring her. It doesn’t matter. Once she’s in the water, the Bliss will truly consume her.

The men begin shepherding the sinners into the water. The minute Mercy gets pulled towards the water, though, she shakes her head profusely, whimpering and pulling back.

“It’s all right, sister,” her Peggy guide says, “It will only last a moment, and when you rise you will be cleansed of your sin. The weight will be lifted.”

Still, she isn’t convinced. She still protests, feet dragging on the muddy ground as she’s pulled out into the water. John steps forward next, wading in until he’s knee deep. He opens the Book, knowing every word by heart but allowing the words to fill the air around them so that they all may hear.

“My brothers and sisters, I welcome you,” John says, his voice echoing through the trees. “I have called you all here tonight to bear witness to the miraculous change of the cleansing. These marked souls enter the waters as sinners, blinded by their greed and wrath and pride, unwilling to accept the love of our Father. But they will leave with their transgressions lifted, the waters will make them see, and they will be a part of our Family.” He lifts a hand, motioning across the water. “Submerge them, brothers. Show them how the waters wash away their sins.”

He watches as one by one, each sinner is held down in the water. Mercy, though, is resistant. She thrashes about as the Peggy tries to push her down, clawing at his shirt to try and push him away.

“Come on now, sister,” the man grunts, “We need to drown out your sins. When you rise you’ll surely be worthy of atonement.” Finally, she is pushed back into the water, and John watches as she kicks, as her hands reach out for purchase.

John looks down to the Book. “We must wash away our past,” he begins. He can still hear Mercy splashing the water as she struggles. The Bliss should’ve kicked in by now. “We must expose our sins.” His sermon is interrupted when Mercy pulls the Peggy into the water with her, rising above him and gasping for air. Immediately, two more Peggies rush into the water, grabbing her by the shoulders to push her back down in the water.

“No!” she shouts, “Please, don’t! The water will pull me down, please!” John motions for another of his men to come. He closes the Book and hands it off to the man. Slowly he goes deeper into the water, until he is standing in front of Mercy. As soon as her red-rimmed eyes meet his, she escapes the Peggies’ hold. Her bound hands reach out and bunch in the fabrics of his shirt and vest. Her eyes are so wild, as though the Bliss is forging nightmares in her sight. “Please, John. I’m sorry.” She presses her head into his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” John snaps, his wrath getting the better of him. “Do you even know what you apologize for?” He pushes her back hard, hand clasping around her neck. He holds her beneath the water, as she claws at his forearm and wrist. Red ribbons dance in the shallow water as she opens his skin. _I don’t understand._ The Bliss should be making her docile, cooperative. Why isn’t it affecting her? He grips her tighter around her throat, a familiar thrill filling him as he feels her body slack and her fighting become less frenzied.

“That’s enough, John.” When Joseph’s voice carries over the water, John pulls her up, fear and shame chilling his bloodstream. He turns his body to face his older brother, Mercy coughing and choking at his side. He stumbles a bit when she pushes him away, clumsily running to the shore. She falls on her hands and knees as soon as her feet meet the dirt, gagging as she tries and fails to throw up. When that proves futile, she lifts her hands to her face, fingers tangling and digging into her scalp as she sobs hysterically. Joseph kneels in front of her, tenderly cupping her bound wrists and pulling her hands away before she can hurt herself. John watches as Joseph holds her head in his hands, whispering to her.

John approaches them, feet dragging against the mud. When he’s standing next to them, Joseph looks up at John. “I’m sorry, Joseph. I- “

Joseph shushes him. “You have to love them, John. Do not let your sin prevent that.” John fights to keep his emotions at bay. _Why should I love her? She’s broken our hearts. She’s betrayed us. She aims to destroy everything that we’ve built, to take away all that we care for. She is beyond saving._ Despite this, the Father still seems to be able to hear his misgivings. The look on his older brother’s face is so disappointed as he stares at him. The humiliation fills him, knowing that the Father will punish him for this.

Joseph looks back to Mercy, and John can just barely make out what he’s whispering to her, “Despite all that you have done, you are not beyond salvation. You’re not here by accident or by chance. You are here by the grace of God. You’ve been given a gift. Now it remains to be seen whether you choose to embrace it… or to cast it aside.” Joseph presses his forehead against hers. “Please, Mercy. Accept it. I want you to join our Family in Eden, like we’ve always planned.”

Joseph stands, turning to face John. John can see it in his brother’s gaze, the imminent scolding, and he fears what the Father might do to him. Instead, Joseph says, “I want you to take the Deputy here to your bunker. You will make her confess _without_ harming her, mark her with her sin, and send her back to Jacob.”

John’s anger spikes, and he can’t help but respond. “That isn’t the way I… _we_ do things. They must endure the pain before they can be absolved of their sins. Without pain, she will not understand the consequences of her actions.”

“It is my will, John,” Joseph clarifies, fixing him with that powerful all-knowing stare. “If you go against me, you’ll have more to worry about than just my wrath.”

John squints at him. _Jacob wouldn’t harm me,_ he thinks, but he’s honestly not quite sure about that. Jacob is extremely possessive and violent. He remembers all the things Jacob’s done just for him and Joseph, but he loves Mercy too. John doesn’t know who he’s more afraid of: Joseph or Jacob.

John sighs. “Very well, Father.”

Joseph gives a satisfied nod, a small smile playing at his lips. He places a hand on John’s shoulder, pointing down at Mercy. “This one shall reach the Atonement,” Joseph says, the hand on John’s shoulder moving to the back of his head. He pulls John close until their foreheads are touching. “Or the Gates of Eden shall be shut to you, John.” The words are whispered to him so softly, and yet John’s never heard anything more terrifying.

“Yes, Joseph,” John answers.

Joseph pulls away, giving John one final _look_ before turning and leaving. John watches him as he goes, thinking on what his older brother said to him. He can’t imagine a punishment more agonizing than what Joseph suggested. To be separated from his brothers again and because of his own failings would be… extremely painful. Before Joseph had found him, John had felt incomplete. Even though he’d graduated from law school and become a successful lawyer, he’d felt directionless. Lost without a cause. Until Joseph came.

He will not let some random slut separate him from his family, deny him of the reward he’s spent so long chasing after. If all he has to do is make her atone, then so be it. He’s made plenty of people atone before, why should she be any different? How hard could it possibly be?

John turns his head, looking down at Mercy still sitting in the dirt, staring blankly ahead of her with her mouth agape. Perhaps the Bliss has finally set in. “Get up,” he commands, and still she sits there. John’s patience is wearing thin. “I said _get up_.” He grabs her arm harshly, jerking her to her feet. Her limbs are like noodles as he pulls her up to standing, and she stumbles until he steadies her. He pinches her chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing her gaze on his.

“You will confess,” he says in a low voice. “Every sin you’ve ever committed, no matter how petty, no matter how small… I will pull from you. Then we’ll see if you’re worthy of Atonement.”

**…**

John leaves ahead of his men, taking a different route from them. Already he is wondering what he can do to make Mercy confess. He cannot harm _her_ ; Joseph made that quite clear. However, he never told John he couldn’t harm _another_ to get her confession.

Immediately upon returning to his bunker, he makes a visit to his favorite hostage. “Deputy Hudson,” he says in greeting as he enters her cell. Joey snaps awake from where she’s sitting already bound in a chair as per orders. “Did you sleep well?”

“Go fuck yourself,” she replies emphatically.

John laughs. “Again, with the vulgarities, Miss Hudson.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment. “It’s a shame, really. That pretty little mouth of yours could be doing better things for me right now.”

She spits at him, the saliva slapping him on the chin. “ _Go fuck yourself_.”

He collects the moisture on his thumb before leaning over grabbing her jaw with that same hand, feeling as the slick spreads across her jawline. “ _Deputy_ ,” he growls in warning, his voice dangerously low, but still she does not cower from him. _She will break,_ he thinks, _They always do._ He removes his hand from her pulling a small pocket knife from his coat. “As _riveting_ of a conversationalist as you are, I’m almost sad to say that our time together is about to come to a close.” When she doesn’t reply to him, he continues, “It seems that I’ve collected a more valuable sinner than you, a one Deputy Mercy Seed to be exact.”

That gets her attention. Her eyes widen almost comically as she glares up at him. “You have Mercy?” she questions, “Where is she? What have you done to her? I swear if she has so much as a paper cut on her, I’ll- “

“You’ll what? Hmm?” John interrupts, “What could you possibly do to me with the state that you’re in?” She doesn’t answer him, instead glancing around the room as if she’s trying to formulate a plan. “Don’t you even think about trying to escape. It wouldn’t work anyway. I have eyes on you at _all_ times. You’d best remember that.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Really? And I thought we were making progress,” John says. He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Soon Mercy will be here.” He unfolds the knife. “I only came in here to get you ready for her.” He grazes the point of the knife gently across her cheekbone. “I want you to look your best when she sees you.”

Joey jerks her head away from his blade, turning her gaze from his. “You’re a monster.”

John scoffs. “Now you see that’s where you’re wrong, Deputy,” he says, taking a fistful of her hair in his hands and forcing her to look at him. “I merely want to save you from the impending doom that is coming to this County. You have no idea what I’ve done for these people. I’ve given them hope, a Family. I’ve given them food and shelter without which they’d have none. And when this world is engulfed in flames, everyone, even _you_ , Miss Hudson,” he brandishes his knife for emphasis, “will be safe far below the ground and will emerge with us unto Eden. That is _all_ we want from you is to enjoy this wonderful gift with us and help us rebuild the world as it should be.

“Then, you and Mercy and all your other colleagues decided to come and take away our Father, the one man who truly cares for all of us, who wants nothing more than to see us all safe and happy. You kill people _needlessly_ in your quest for ‘justice’. You tear apart families blindly following orders like common dogs, ignorant or blatantly complacent with the fact that those same people giving those orders would throw a baby to the wolves if it would mean saving their own hides. Without even stopping to _try_ and understand why we’re doing the things we are.

“Now, I want you to think about all I’ve said, and I want you to _tell me_ ,” John pulls her closer, nails digging into her scalp, “who the _real_ monsters are.”

She glares defiantly, eyes dark and teeth bared. “Go. Fuck. You- “

“Sir, we have a problem.”

John growls when the Peggy enters the cell, turning wildly to the man and pointing his knife. “What is the meaning of this? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a confession?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just- “

“Enough rambling, what is it you want?”

The Peggy squares up, looking John in the eyes as he says, “There was an attack on the road. Mercy’s escaped.”


	12. Mercy Seed IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!
> 
> So I am excited and happy to say that I now have a picture of Mercy, which you can see here: (http://mysuiciderecovery.tumblr.com/post/179931885184/mercy-seed-the-soldiers-bride-this-commission-of) (For some reason HTML code won't work for me so I have to post the full link. Just delete the parenthesis) It was made by my amazing boyfriend and not only does she look like an actual character in the game, but she's also exactly as I imagine her. ;~; I love it so much. If any of you want a commission of an OC of yours (or even just of yourself) please contact him! His work is really amazing. You can find his page here: (https://www.fiverr.com/kentarouk/fantasyyou-bring-your-dreams-to-life-in-3d)
> 
> Just a little shameless advertizing. Sorry, not sorry. I love my boyfriend.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

**August 26, 2008 – 1:59 AM**

Mercy doesn’t know what exactly she was expecting of him. Strangely, she hadn’t _anticipated_ for him to turn her invitation down, but she isn’t surprised that he has. She’d thought that the music might help coax him out, but she doesn’t even know what type of music he likes. She leaves the lawn chairs in the same spot, hoping that he’ll get the hint that the offer of friendship still stands, but as she exits her cabin the next morning, carrying a lobster roll she’s made for him, she sees one of her chairs folded up and leaning against one of the posts on her porch. As soon as her eyes land on the thing, her heart lodges itself in her throat. When she looks, she sees her other chair still set up by the firepit, without its companion.

Her hurt quickly gives way to anger as she swallows past the lump in her throat. She’d thought she was on her way to finally making a friend that understands how she feels. Someone who she can take comfort in. She broke through her comfort zone and invited him to sit with her and he’s just thrown it back in her face.

She stomps over to her neighbor’s porch where he’s cleaning his rifle. She’d still made him the sandwich, but she will make him see how disappointed she is in him. With a huff, she places the paper plate next to him, turning swiftly without so much as glancing at him.

As Mercy stews in her anger within her cabin, she thinks back to when she moved here. She had been so determined to be alone. What was the point in forming bonds with people if in the end they were just going to leave, whether it be through death or something else? A part of her had even believed (maybe even still believes) that she was hexed. That everyone she ever has or will love are destined to be ripped from her.

Though, that was before she’d felt guilty about treating him like shit. Before she’d begun cooking for him in some attempt to gain his approval. Before he’d begun filling her shed with firewood and constructing a firepit for her. Before she’d made him that shabby beanie. When she looks to her desk on the east-facing wall, she can see the unfinished matching scarf swaying over the edge from the breeze coming from the open window.

She sighs, pulling her knees up from where she’s sitting on the bed and burying her face in her hands, cheeks and ears tingling with embarrassment. She really only has herself to blame for all this. She never should’ve done anything for him. She should’ve listened to the people who warned her about him. She should’ve just left him alone.

The next day, she stays inside her cabin, leaving only once to hang her wet clothes on the line. She hears his footsteps approach their cabins behind her, and a subsequent quiet as he comes to a stop. The back of her neck burns as she feels his gaze bore into her, but still she ignores him. Eventually, she hears him ascend the steps of his porch and the shutting and locking of his door behind him. She bites the inside of her cheek as her throat begins hurting. She will not let this break her.

On the next day, she decides to go for a swim in the lake, refusing to let his rejection send her into a spiraling pit of despair.

And the day after that, after she comes home from work, all sweaty and gross, feet and arms aching from standing and having to carry heavy crates, finding no new surprises from him, realizing how long it’s been since he’s done something for her, she feels the break.

It is insignificant to the break she’d gone through when her father died, and somehow different but also not unlike the numbing tremor she’d felt after her grandmother passed. Yet still, it resonates in her, throbs in her veins like a fixation.

As she lays in her bed that night, shadows flickering across the ceiling as the fan spins, she wonders when she’d begun to feel dependent on him. They have not even conversated with each other. She chides herself for her naivete, for allowing herself to cling to this person she doesn’t even know. Just like her grandmother, Mercy became used to the normalness of it all, to the point of him becoming a fixture in her routine. Now it’s gone, and once again she has to pick up the pieces she herself broke.

She wonders where exactly she went wrong. She appreciates what he’s done for her. Though, he didn’t start any of it until she began preparing food for him. Had she somehow forced him into something that he doesn’t want? Had the offering of friendship been too much? Is she being too petty by ignoring him?

She presses her face into her pillow, a small muffled sob leaving her throat as she wonders how she’s going to make it in this huge, perplexing world.

Within minutes of sleep overtaking her, Mercy finds herself deep in the forests of the Mountains, the blood moon large and bright above the tree tops. She walks aimlessly on the snow-covered ground, though she feels no chill on her skin. The army jacket she’s wearing surrounds her in a warmth that seems to radiate from somewhere deep inside her soul.

As she walks, she feels the earth below her tremble with low predatory growls, and the hair on the back of her neck stands at attention. She turns her head to look over her shoulder. Glowing blue eyes stare back at her from within the shadows of the bushes, and Mercy gulps audibly as a cold sweat starts to form on her brow.

Mercy turns her body towards the wolf, keeping eye contact and backing cautiously away from the animal. As long as she remains calm, it shouldn’t hurt her. The realtor had told her so for wild predators. Still, as she continues on, the growling becomes more intense, and her heart is beating so fast. She turns away and starts running, desperate to be rid of the creature stalking her.

And it seems as though the forest is trying to hinder her progress. Bushes sprout instantly from the ground to block her path. Vines in the trees wrap around her wrists to pull her back, but adrenaline has made her strong, able to rip through them with little resistance. Her luck eventually runs dry, though, when a tree’s root pushes itself from the dirt to trip her.

Mercy falls to the ground, knees scraping and hands throbbing when she hits the hard surface. She turns over onto her back, an elbow propping her up so that she can spot her hunter. As the enormous wolf stalks towards her through the shadows, eyes shining with hunger and snout matted crimson, she lifts her other arm protectively. Suddenly, she doesn’t feel quite so warm anymore, arms quivering as the cold crawls over her skin like tiny bugs.

A white light flashes across the wolf’s fur, making embers ignite like matches at the tips of its hairs. The wolf makes a noise between a snarl and whimper, and it sprints out and away from the light, disappearing behind the brush. Mercy releases a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as she hears the wolf’s rushed footfalls get farther and farther away. She lowers her arm, moving her head to see who’s saved her.

Mercy’s throat tightens when she sees her father there, clipping his powered down flashlight back onto his belt. His eyes glisten when they land on her, his smile leaving crows feet on the corners of his eyes. He stands next to her, holding his hand out for her.

“You all right, baby girl?” His strong, deep voice makes her heart break. As she takes his hand, feels the roughness of his palm against hers, tears pool at the edge of her vision before effortlessly falling down her cheeks. Her dad pulls her to her feet, brows furrowing as he gently wipes away her tears. “Why are you crying? Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head, though truthfully her hurt resonates somewhere deep within her rather than any physical scarring. “You’re not really here. You’re dead,” she croaks out.

His smile disappears. “I know.”

She takes in a shuddering breath. “What are you doing here?”

He glances around with an eyebrow raised, lifting a hand to scratch his scalp. “I’m not sure. I think I’m looking for something.” He meets her gaze again, smiling warmly to her. “Will you help me look for it?”

She nods, throat throbbing and eyes stinging as she tries to keep herself from crying more. They walk through the darkness in the trees until they reach a field, covered completely by fresh undisturbed snow and the blood moon can be clearly seen in the sky.

Her dad looks up at it, the scarlet radiance reflecting in his azure eyes. “Did you know that blood moons intensify your instincts and feelings?” he asks. “The moon is closer to the earth, which not only affects the tides, but also your mind and body and the problems you have.”

Mercy frowns, turning her gaze towards the moon as well. “It’s just a lunar eclipse.”

“Maybe,” he says, “It is a mighty cosmic force, though. It can bring about new beginnings, the end of relationships, changes are made. When a new lunar cycle begins, so does a new chapter of your life. Whether or not the change is good or bad, well…who’s to know?” He pauses, then speaks again, laughter in his voice, “See? Even _you’re_ captivated by the beauty. Do you feel the hum inside of you; how fast your heart is beating; how your stomach just won’t settle?”

She sighs, turning her head back to her father, tears threatening to spill from her eyes again. “I miss you so much,” she sobs.

His face softens, nodding in understanding. “I know you do, sweetheart.” He approaches her, laying his hands on her shoulders the way he always used to when she needed comfort. She bites her lip to keep her crying at bay. “No matter what this change brings into your life, whether it’s good or bad, you _will_ grow from it. It will help you in becoming who you’re meant to be. It will make you stronger.” His hands move up to cup her face. “Whatever your choice is, I will _always_ be on your side. Remember that, baby girl.”

His thumb brushes away a stray tear before he turns his head, smiling brightly when his gaze finds something. “Ah, there it is.”

Mercy follows his stare, eyes widening and throat closing up when she sees what he’s found. Large rocks have built up on the far side of the field and imbedded in their surface is _the_ door. Its white paint is chipped around the corners, knob, and hinges from years of use without repair. A sign that reads _Employees Only_ is fixed at the top of it.

Her dad takes her hand and pulls her towards the door, but she tries to keep herself rooted to the spot, feet leaving track marks in the snow as he drags her.

“Don’t fight it, baby girl,” her father soothes. “This is for your own safety.”

He pulls the door open, gently pulling her inside. It’s extremely cramped, barely big enough to have her fit in it. The sickening smell of bleach and chemicals makes her want to puke. He places his hands on her shoulders. She sees another figure then, a tall faceless man holding a pistol in his hand standing behind her father. He aims the weapon at her father as her breathing comes out erratically.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” Her dad tenderly grips her chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling until they lock eyes. “Everything is going to be all right.”

A bang echoes through her unconsciousness.

“Dad!” Mercy cries as she jerks awake. She hyperventilates as she pushes herself up from the floor, frantically looking around herself and clawing at her chest as her heart threatens to beat out of her throat. She hysterically scoots back until her back hits her nightstand, pulling her knees up to her chest. She reaches her hand over her nightstand until she clutches something tall and made of glass. She pulls it down in front of her face, pulling the cap off the perfume, and taking in a huge whiff. It used to be her grandmother’s: traces of gardenia, lilac, jasmine, amber, and musk emanating from the golden liquid within and consuming Mercy’s senses. She always smelled it when her grandmother would hug her after the nightmares she started having after her dad died, and after _she_ died, Mercy had become so attached to the comforting scent that she couldn’t just leave it in Maryland.

As she regains more of her consciousness, she looks around the room, trying to identify her surroundings and ground herself. She’s sitting on the hardwood floor, having must’ve fallen off the bed at some point. She can see light bruises starting to form on her knees from the impact, and her palms are throbbing. Her lights are still on which helps her feel safer as she calms. It isn’t until she hears the light sounds of her ipod playing soft piano and the banging on her door that she knows she’s been brought back to reality.

“Hey, you alive in there?” she hears the gruff voice from the other side of her door, taking a few moments to recognize that it’s her neighbor. “I’ll break the door down if I have to.”

Mercy stands on shaky legs, leaning against the furniture as she makes her way to the door. She unlocks the door, pulling it open only enough so that she can peek out at him. Her breath catches in her throat when she sees him, standing on her porch in nothing but pajama pants and untied boots, looking like he just rolled out of bed. It makes her acutely aware of the fact that not only is she coated in sweat, making her hair and clothes cling to her uncomfortably, she is also only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of underwear. She pulls the hem of her shirt down, hoping to cover more of her legs. His eyes are immediately drawn to the motion eyes darkening before he looks back up to her face.

“You all right? I heard you shouting in here.” he says, leaning against the doorframe and glancing over her shoulder to peer inside her cabin. She nods, swallowing thickly.

He seems to take in more of her appearance, eyes squinting as they roam down from her face all the way to her feet. His gaze softens, his expression unreadable, but she can see the understanding in his eyes. She blushes. They stand there awkwardly staring at each other for a short time, neither one of them moving to say anything. Not that Mercy would actually _say_ anything to him.

He nods to himself, seemingly realizing that the short one-sided conversation is over, and turns to leave her. Panicked, she reaches out, fingers lightly closing around his arm. He flinches like she’s burned him, abruptly turning back to her and jerking his arm out of her touch. She cringes when she looks at his arm, remembering and seeing the wounds he has there. _I probably hurt him,_ she realizes.

He stares at her, eyes fixed on her in a glare before she signs, “ _Thank you._ ”

He raises a brow, features softening before his face is steeled and unfeeling again. He shakes his head, furrowing his brows like he’s annoyed. “Whatever. Just be quiet. People are trying to sleep here.”

Her heart drops from that, hurt lodging itself in her throat. _Doesn’t he understand?_ He was a soldier. Surely, someone who’s been through war after war, seen the horrors that she can’t even imagine, has awful nightmares of their own. She bites her lip, nodding curtly with her eyes cast down.

Once he leaves her, she closes and locks her door again. She screws her eyes shut, hand clutching the doorknob painfully.

_You were wrong, Dad,_ she thinks, knowing that there’s no way her father can hear her. _Nothing’s changed._

**April 5, 2018 – 12:46PM**

“We’re comin’ up on the Purpletop Telecom Tower, Dep,” Nick says, pointing forward towards said tower a few hundred meters ahead of them. “I’ll lower Carmina a little so that you can make a jump for it.”

Mercy nods to herself, knowing that Nick can’t see her from where she’s seated behind him. She secures the straps of her parachute to her shoulders and chest.

Her radio crackles to life as Grace chimes in from wherever in Hope County she’s hiding, “Deputy, why are you even botherin’ with that place anyway? We should be dealing with cult shit, not this bizarre alien bullshit Larry’s made up.”

Mercy sighs, mashing out her code, “ _It isn’t the aliens that worry me. Larry thinks the cult is using the tower to listen in on radio frequencies._ ” Mercy feels herself shudder at the thought. She wonders if they’ve been listening in on her own frequencies. _Of course, they have._ That has to be the reason why the cult seems to _know_ where she is at all times, why she’s so easy to find.

“And you _should_ deal with that, but don’t do any other weird shit for him,” Grace says, “Seriously, the guy’s a lunatic. He believes that some big ass spider things are gonna come down from Mars and devour us all.”

“ _It doesn’t matter if they come or not,_ ” Mercy types, a chill running down her spine. As she glances out the window, looking down over the treetops and across the Valley, she tries to imagine what it’ll all look like when it’s engulfed in flames, trees toppling over and buildings burning to ash, corpses beyond recognition littering the roads. Just the thought gives her goosebumps. _The Collapse will destroy this world before the aliens even have a chance,_ she thinks, not daring to type that message over her radio.

“Alright, Dep, you should be good to jump out now,” Nick says, “I’ll, uh, circle around and see if I can spot any Peggies for ya.”

Mercy nods, reaching out to lightly squeeze his shoulder, before opening the door and jumping out without hesitation. She’s done this so much in the last few days that the fear from the falling doesn’t affect her anymore. She waits as her hair whips about and tears leak from the corners of her eyes until she is at the appropriate height to pull the cord for her parachute. Her body jerks as the wind catches her sails, and she grabs the handles, so she can control where she lands.

Her radio beeps at her belt as Nick relays to her, “I see five guys down there, Mercy. I think there’s something locked in the gate, too. An animal, like a wolf or dog. I think they’re guarding it.”

She nods to herself turning so she can land amongst the cover of the trees and bushes around the tower. She quickly detaches the parachute from her shoulders, making a mental note to come back for it once she’s done clearing the tower. She crouches, readying her shovel. She thinks about whistling for Boomer to see if he’s anywhere nearby, but she can’t risk the noise with how close she is to the Peggies. She slowly sneaks over, peeking out around the bushes to take in her surroundings.

Nick’s right; there is indeed a wolf locked inside the small enclosure surrounding the tower’s base. Though, it is unlike any wolf she’s ever seen. The wolves she’s seen around Hope County are usually grey, sometimes black or brown. However, this wolf’s fur is pure white, a red marking on its face. Mercy doesn’t know if it’s dye or paint, but the red crusted on its muzzle gives her the sneaking suspicion that it’s blood. And its eyes… _Oh my God…_ Its eyes are so terrifying, misty white and green orbs that reflect no emotion but can somehow still invoke a frozen terror within the hearts of its prey. She can just barely make out a low rhythmic growl from the creature as it paces within the confines of the fence.

She turns away from the wolf, instead focusing on the more pressing matter of the Peggies watching over the wolf. There is an Eden’s Gate truck and an ATV parked on the dirt path in front of the gate. She can only see three Peggies so far, two standing guard at the gate and the other is leaning into the truck’s passenger side, searching for something in the glove box. The other three Peggies Nick saw must be surveying the perimeter.

She hears the Peggie at the truck speak as he holds a radio to his mouth, “Dispatch, this is Micah calling from the Purpletop Telecom Tower. Do you read me?”

“We read you, Micah. What do you need?” the woman on the other end of the line asks. It sounds suspiciously like Nancy, and Mercy grinds her teeth as she remembers the night they went to arrest Joseph.

“We got a Judge down here, locked up in the fence. We found it in the forest while we were making our rounds, and she killed one of our guys, ripped his throat clean from his neck.” _A Judge?_ Mercy wonders. She’s heard a few reports of these _Judges_ all around Hope County. She’s not entirely sure what they are or how they’ve become this way, but she knows that the cult has something to do with it. “We’re thinkin’ she somehow escaped from the Mountains. If she attacked one of our own, it either means that she hasn’t taken well to the serum or she hasn’t been properly trained. We’re wondering if we should put her down or if someone needs to be sent to come get her.”

“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll get back to you,” the woman answers before the radio clicks off.

The man, Micah, at the truck throws the radio back in the glove box and turns back to his comrades. “She said she’ll get back with us soon.”

“Should we call the other boys back here?” one of the Peggies at the gate asks.

“Nah, they’ll be fine,” Micah answers, “It shouldn’t take them much longer to finish their surveyin’.”

Just as Mercy’s about to back out of her hiding spot and go look for these stray men, she feels something hard poke the back of her head. “Don’t you fuckin’ move,” a dangerously low voice rumbles behind her. Her face goes white, blood running cold when she realizes she’s allowed herself to get caught again. “Drop the shovel.” She almost doesn’t even hear him, her thoughts running a mile a minute as she tries to put together a quick escape plan. He presses the barrel of his gun painfully against the back of her skull. “I said _drop it_.”

She hesitantly releases the shovel from her grasp, cringing as it thuds on the ground. She slowly lifts her hands in surrender, swallowing when she feels the man’s hand on her, searching for any other weapons. He flings the slingshot strapped to her belt away, lightly scoffing. Next, the bow around her shoulders joins her other weapons. He pulls the pistol out of the holster strapped to her thigh so that it can join the pile.

Once he’s done searching her, he grips her arm, pulling her until she’s standing. “Walk,” he commands, shoving her forward.

She does as she’s told, walking slowly past the bushes and into the clearing beyond. Immediately upon her entering, the wolf takes notice to her. She jumps when the wolf begins barking and snarling madly, jaws snapping as she slams against the gate with her front paws. The other three Peggies turn at the disturbance, eyes widening when they see Mercy.

“I caught myself a rat, boys,” the man behind her says, venom dripping from his tone, “Found her sneaking in the bushes.”

“Holy shit, Arthur!” the one named Micah exclaims, running a hand through his greasy unkempt hair. “I- I- I’ll go get the rope. John will want her as soon as possible.”

“What about the Judge?” a Peggie guarding the gate asks.

Micah waves a hand dismissively. “I doubt we need five people to deliver one Marked sinner. Y’all just stay here while me and Arthur take her back to the bunker.”

“Fuck that,” Arthur growls, kicking the back of her legs. She grunts as she falls to her knees. “I’m not giving her anymore chances to escape.” She feels the barrel of his gun press against the back of her head and she swears that her heart almost stops beating right then and there.

“Arthur, what the fuck are you doing?!” one of the gate guards shouts.

“Don’t you see?” Arthur asks, “We could end this war. With her gone, the Resistance will crumble into nothing.”

“Arthur, you idiot,” the other gate guard mumbles under his breath, then louder, “You’re forgetting that she’s a Seed, a Herald. She’s Jacob’s wife. If you kill her, he’ll feed you to his Judges while you still breathe.”

“Jacob will be _proud_ ,” Arthur argues, “It’s like he always says. _Sacrifice the weak so the strong can survive_. She betrayed us. She is the reason why the Collapse started. She is manipulating our brothers and sisters away from the Path. If we kill her, we’ll be heroes.”

“You stop with this nonsense right now!” Micah demands, pulling his rifle over his shoulder and aiming it at the man behind her. “The Father wants her _alive_ , Arthur. I swear, I won’t hesitate to kill you if you don’t lower your weapon.” The other Peggies standing by the gate raise their own weapons. Mercy hears the low hum of an airplane.

“You’re all fo- “The rest of Arthur’s sentence is drowned out with a pained cry as the rata-tat-tat of Nick’s guns connect with the body behind her. As the other Peggies turn to the sky, distracted by the plane, she dives back into the bushes in search of her weapons. She grabs the first one she sees, her slingshot, before returning to the heat of the fight…

…only to find that two men have been ripped apart by the Judge. She looks to the gate, seeing the broken lock on the ground. Nick must’ve shot it off when he flew down. She watches as the wolf leaps at the last man alive, scream dying in her throat as the wolf tears into him with her teeth. The man is dead in seconds.

That’s when Mercy gets tackled to the ground by the last remaining Peggie, having must’ve ran back when he heard gunshots. She cries out painfully as he tries to pin her arms down. She feels around the ground, looking for anything to help her. Her fingers grasp a rock the size of her palm, and she slams it against the man’s face. As he’s doubled over, she pulls herself out from under him. She sits up and places the rock in the pouch of her slingshot, the band snapping as the rock flies towards him. He lifts an arm before the rock can make contact with his head, bouncing off his forearm. He retaliates by backhanding her hard across the cheek, knocking the wind out of her as she falls back to the ground.

She searches the ground again looking for another rock as she watches the man crawling towards her. She screams as the Judge lunges at the final Peggie, tearing into him just as viciously as all the rest. Without even thinking about it, she pulls the rock back in the band before letting it go. The rock barely thuds against the wolf’s side, and she turns to Mercy, jowls and teeth dripping with blood as she snarls and growls.

“Ah, shit! Fuck! Dep, please tell me you’re alive,” Nick yells over the radio at her belt. “Fuck, that’s a lot of blood down there. I didn’t hit you, did I?”

The slingshot falls out of Mercy’s hand as she scoots quickly backwards, her terrified violet gaze locked on with the wolf’s hazy one. _Mercy, you dumbass. Why did you do that?_ She should’ve gone for the bow or even the pistol while the wolf was distracted. Her slingshot is useless in a fight unless she can get a good hard shot to the head. Her breath hitches when her back hits the tree. The wolf stalks towards her until she is right in front of Mercy. Mercy can’t help but screw her eyes shut and turn her face away, the metallic scent in the wolf’s breath tickling her nose.

Suddenly, the growling stops, and the scent fades from Mercy’s nostrils. She slowly opens one eye, looking to find that the wolf is calm now, sitting on her hind legs and watching Mercy patiently. Mercy opens both her eyes, raising a brow as she turns her face towards the wolf. The Judge lays down on its front paws, laying her head on the ground in a submissive stance. Mercy cautiously reaches out to the wolf, fingers shaking as they lightly connect with the harsh but soft fur on the wolf’s head. The wolf doesn’t seem to react at all to her touch. Emboldened by the wolf’s compliance, Mercy continues to stroke the wolf.

“Dep, please answer me!” Nick shouts in the radio, sounding as though he might cry, “I need to know you’re okay!”

Mercy quickly unclips her radio from her belt, tapping out a quick message. “ _I’m fine, Nick. Just give me a minute._ ”

He sighs in relief, saying something about his soul leaving his body and how he believes in God again, but she’s too focused on the wolf to really listen to what he’s saying.

It’s then that she notices the collar on the wolf’s neck. There is a tracking device on it, not unlike the ones she and Jacob used when they went hunting. Though they never used them on wolves. They mostly only used these on small deer or other pack animals, so that they could be led to the herd. Tucked into the collar, she sees a folded piece of paper, worn from the weather of Hope County. She gently pulls it from the collar, slipping it into one of the back pockets of her jeans.

She then signs for the wolf to sit up. Surprisingly, the wolf actually _knows_ her command and obeys her. Mercy still struggles with teaching Boomer her signs. Whoever trained this wolf, trained her to understand sign language it seems. Mercy swallows past the lump in her throat, knowing that it was Jacob. It couldn’t possibly have been someone else. She tenderly cups the wolf’s face in her hands, thumbs grazing against the rough fur around the wolf’s muzzle. The blood is not yet dry and clings to the pads of Mercy’s thumbs. She traces the marking on the wolf’s forehead, immediately recognizing the matted bone-dry texture of old blood.

The wolf doesn’t react at all to Mercy’s touch, not aggressively or contentedly. The wolf’s hazy gaze is completely devoid of all feeling, left with a tranquil expression the makes Mercy’s skin crawl. _Why would someone do this to you?_ she wonders, _What kind of person does this to an animal?_

Just as she is about to examine other parts of the animal, Boomer comes flying out from the bushes snarling and barking as he tackles the wolf. The animals are just a giant ball of fur as they roll around in the grass. Mercy shouts as she lunges for them, pulling Boomer out from beneath the wolf and blocking the wolf’s view of him with her body. Mercy hugs Boomer to her, the dog still growling and barking wildly, trying desperately to break out of her grasp. Mercy quickly signs to the snarling wolf to leave, and she does, running away across the field and disappearing into some bushes.

Mercy gently runs her hands across Boomer’s fur, shushing him as he continues to growl and glare in the direction the wolf went. It takes a good minute, but soon Boomer relaxes, turning to lick her cheek. She smiles. “Good boy,” she whispers.

**…**

Mercy grunts as she pulls open the bunker door leading down to the Foxhole. That’s hers and Grace’s codename for it at least. Grace used to live in the house above it until the Reaping started, and the Peggies burned the place to the ground. They both came here the night Mercy was kidnapped, hoping to make it a base for them to lie low.

The bunker is comfortable and spacious. Tidy too. Not that Mercy would expect anything less from a veteran. Jacob is the same way, always needing things to be clean and neat. Though, sometimes he does have bouts of depression that make it difficult to do that. Mercy shakes the thoughts from her head; she doesn’t want to think about him right now.

The space is very well stocked. Upon entering, there is a table on the right with a HAM radio and a phone set up. Shelves are set up all along the walls with water, canned food, and different toiletries. Down the hall to the right, there is a bulletin board hung up on the wall, displaying flyers, newspaper articles, post-it notes, and a calendar. Past the hallway is the living area. A couple shelves with some books are set up next to the bunkbed, and an AR-CL is mounted on the wall above a desk. The bunker also has a surplus of ammo, though Grace is the only one who uses it. String lights are hung over the bunkbed for softer lighting that the fluorescent lights can’t provide. A guitar is leaning against the bottom bunk. Grace had adamantly refused to play any music for Mercy, until she’d had an intense nightmare of being dragged under the water by John.

_Don’t you ever tell anyone I did this for you,_ Grace said as she started strumming a soft, gentle tune to soothe Mercy. Grace is really quite good, though she’s too modest to accept that praise. It doesn’t seem like she’s in right now, though.

After discarding her backpack and weapons next to the bunkbed, Mercy makes her way to the bathroom for a shower before calling it a day. The day was moderately productive, if she did say so herself. After destroying the satellites on the Telecom Tower, she went back to Fall’s End where she was given tasks by Casey and Pastor Jerome. Firstly, she went to Woodson’s Pig Farm to investigate a loss of communication with one of the Resistance groups. Of course when she got there, the place was swarming with Peggies, but with Boomer and Grace there to back her up, it took little effort to overpower them. After rescuing the hostages and repelling the final attack, Grace went her own way to do whatever it is she does when she’s not with Mercy.

Once it became dark, Mercy set about for her second task. She helped Casey with the Testy Festy trailer, the cover of night making it easier for her to get the food truck to Fall’s End from Hyde Barn safely. She wondered if it was even the time to be partying, what with the cult having just taken over, but she desperately needs a night off from this shit to destress.

Mercy sighs as she steps under the hot water, rubbing her soar muscles with a washcloth. After she scrubs the dirt and grime from her skin, she sets to work lathering up her hair with shampoo. Grace’s shampoo tastes are so drastically different from Mercy’s: spicy with just a hint of musk, much like Jacob’s. She wonders if it’s an army thing or if Grace and Jacob just have similar tastes. It makes her heart hurt, though, the scent making memories flash in her mind of times when her husband would hold her close to him, of early mornings waking up next to him, of late nights falling asleep in his arms.

And throughout all of it he’d lied to her.

She clenches her teeth, the muscles in her jaw bunching up, as she shuts off the water. She lightly pads the moisture off her body with a towel before pulling on a new pair of underwear and a sports bra. She picks up her dirty clothes, searching the pockets of her jeans so that she can wash them.

Her brows furrow when her fingers brush against paper. She pulls the folded note out, eyes glowing with recognition when she remembers. She’d completely forgotten about it with how hectic the rest of her day has been. She closes the lid of the toilet so that she can sit down, gingerly opening the note so that she can read it.

Her throat tightens when she immediately recognizes Jacob’s handwriting, so messy and like chicken scratch. She takes in a steady breath as she reads:

_Mercy,_

_Joseph says that you will never listen to reason, and knowing you, he is right. However, if I don’t see you again until you make your way to the Mountains, I take this chance to write this letter in the hopes that you will understand._

_This war between the Project and the Resistance will end in one of two ways: The Resistance will fall, and the Project will be able to prepare for the Collapse in peace or you will fulfill Joseph’s prophecy. If it is necessary that I should be killed for the sake of my brother, I will accept my fate gladly. Not once have I ever felt any hesitation when faced with my purpose nor has my belief in the Project ever been shaken or courage faltered. I owe my brother a debt, a debt that can only be paid with my life, and I am willing to set aside my joys in order to repay it._

_Only, my wonderful wife, I find myself feeling guilty that by laying down my own joys I am thereby replacing yours with sorrow and grief. Having suffered through sacrifice and loss my whole life, I feel pain knowing that I must force that onto you after all that you have been through, knowing that you will no longer be the same woman I fell in love with from it. I feel weak, feeling this way, while my purpose radiates brilliantly within me, but my limitless love for you struggles against it and clouds my judgment._

_Since falling in love with you I have searched endlessly for some wrong motive for the deeds of the Project, and I’ve found none. The loyalty I feel for my brothers has called on me to act, and I will obey._

_As I write this letter, the blissful memories that we have shared consume me, and I thank the God I don’t believe in that I was able to enjoy you for so long. But as hard as it is for me to burn those memories to ash, to give up on a future where we might still love and watch our future children become strong in a new world born from fire, my duty lies with my brothers. When my purpose is fulfilled, and my debt repaid, my last thought will be of you and my final breath will whisper your name._

_I forgive you, Mercy, for the pain that you have caused my family and me. I know that it was the pain from the secrets I kept that made you do it, and for that I’m sorry and ask you to forgive me in return. I was inconsiderate and foolish. Were it up to me, I would wash your pain away, clean every tarnish from your heart, and shield you from all harm. But I can’t. The fate of us all lies within your grasp, and I can do nothing but offer you a choice._

_I love you, Mercy, and I forgive you. Please, come home to me._

_Jacob_

Mercy cries as she reads it, covering her mouth to muffle her gross sobbing. If it weren’t for Jacob’s handwriting, she wouldn’t even believe that he actually wrote this. Rarely has he ever spoken to her with so much emotion and feeling. She presses the note to her chest, screwing her eyes shut tight.

She could go back to him. He’s forgiven her. If she were to go back, they could move forward and put all of this behind them. But an image of Joey, makeup running down her cheeks from crying and mouth covered by duct tape, flashes through her mind. She remembers Sherriff Whitehorse and the Marshal who are trapped in their own minds somewhere in the Henbane River region. And poor Staci… No one will talk to her about what’s really happening in the Mountains, but she knows that there are terrible things going on up there. Grace, Nick and Kim and their unborn baby, Mary May, Jerome… And so many others… They’re all suffering from this. If she goes back to her family, everyone will continue to suffer.

She almost shouts when a knock echoes from the bathroom door, rushing to fold up the piece of paper and shove it down her bra. “Hey, are you all right in there?” It’s Grace. She probably came back and heard Mercy crying. She wipes her tears away with the heel of her palm before standing and opening the door. Grace’s eyes widen a little, before she clears her throat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. I was only wondering, are you gonna wash your clothes?” Mercy nods in answer. “Alright. When you’re done, let me know. I need to shower and wash my clothes too.”

Mercy watches as Grace turns around swiftly then disappears around the corner into the kitchen/dining area. Mercy shuts the door, turning the hot water on in the sink. When she looks up, violet meets violet in the mirror. She tenderly touches the swelling bruise forming on her cheek from where she was backhanded, wincing from the resulting sting. A jagged scar has formed on her forehead, Grace having helped her in removing the stitches a couple days ago. Surprisingly, it wasn’t very painful, only feeling a slight pressure. She briefly wonders if Jacob will no longer think she’s beautiful when he sees her again, but she knows that’s a silly thought.

She cups some hot water in her hands, splashing it onto her face. She dries a hand off and pulls the note out of her bra, looking down at it with grief stuck in her throat. She gingerly caresses its rough surface with her thumb, pressing it gently to her lips.

_I will save you, my love,_ she silently vows. _I won’t give up on you._


	13. Jacob Seed IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I hope y'all had a very lovely Christmas and happy New Year.
> 
> I feel like most of the time I don't know what to put in these notes and I think I may not be personal enough with my readers so right now I feel like telling you guys what I've been up to, especially since it's been a couple months since the last update. If you're not into that (which won't hurt my feelings if you're not, to you I'm probably nothing more than some random girl on the internet) then I hope you enjoy the new chapter.
> 
> I've been going through a really bad depression patch lately, mostly because my dad died a few years ago and around the holidays I get to missing him and wanting him here. I've been seeing a counselor at my college about it, but I'm not on any medication so that can only do so much(at least only as much as I have the energy for). I've also been thinking a lot about the rest of my family and who really does or doesn't care for me as a family should and trying to...come to terms with it? Accept it? I don't know.
> 
> Anyways, my holidays were good, filled with delicious food and loving my family and holding my cousins new baby. My mom and little sister came down to visit me and see my new house which made extremely happy while they were here but as soon as they left threw me into this depressive stupor because I just miss them so much. I'm thankful for my boyfriend who is very supportive and surprisingly seems to still love me no matter how depressed I get. And then I completely slept through all of New Year's with a cold. I wonder if that's an ill omen of some sort. (No pun intended)
> 
> Anyways, if you read through all of that I thank you. I have an extremely hard time opening up to people and maybe it's because I've spent all night writing the last remaining bits of this chapter, but I thought it would help get my feelings out of me and maybe bring me closer to my readers. We're all just horny Jacob Seed nerds in the end and I want you as my friend.
> 
> That's all my fingers can type anymore, though. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and let it lead to more and more chapters in this glorious year of 2019. I thank all of you for coming to my Ted Talk. I don't know if that reference applies here, and I don't care.
> 
> Warning for this chapter: there is some human/animal fighting and killing in this chapter and also some literal heart eating. If you are squeamish or triggered by that, skip the last eleven paragraphs.

**August 26, 2008 – 11:35 PM**

There’s a pit in Jacob’s stomach all the next day. He doesn’t entirely know why, doesn’t know if he should do anything, or if he should act differently. He knows it has something to do with what happened last night. He’d woken up to the sound of a loud thud that sounded like something falling on a wood floor. After being scared awake and doing a once over through his cabin and finding nothing out of the ordinary, he groaned and decided to smoke a cigarette to calm his nerves. Just as he was about to light it, he’d heard his neighbor shout from her cabin. Without even thinking about it, he pulled on a pair of loose pants and his boots and rushed to her door.

When she’d answered, she looked like hell. Her hair was a mess of tangles, and her eyes were so red, undereye circles exaggerated from her violet eyes. God, he must’ve looked the same way. The implication made his throat feel dry. She’d had a nightmare, just like the ones he sometimes had. _Perhaps that was the reason why you lashed out,_ a voice echoes through his thoughts; a voice that sounds suspiciously like Joseph. Jacob shakes his head in a vain attempt to push his brother out. The fact that he’d stood her up coupled with the hypocrisy of his insensitive statement to her filled him with such an intense sinking that he was never able to go back to sleep. Even now as he goes for his morning run, the feeling haunts him, and Joseph’s voice nags at the back of his mind.

_You need to open your heart._

_You can’t isolate yourself forever._

_Maybe she needs you just as much as you need her._

_I don’t need anyone,_ Jacob thinks to himself, trying to overpower the conflict that Joseph is forming.

_Liar._ That one sounds like John, and it makes Jacob almost choke on his water as he stops to take a break. That’s when he _knows_ they have to be in his head, that they will _not_ leave until he has fulfilled their request.

There is something that the Project needs from his neighbor. He is not sure what, but he is sure that her path _must_ cross with theirs. She is an important piece to the puzzle that Joseph is creating, and only Jacob can forge her into what she needs to become. The realization of the fact chills him to his very core, but he is changed from it. He knows what his brothers need from him, and he will not disappoint. He will not run from it this time.

He’d known that she was angry from what he’d done with her lawn chair after he’d turned her down. Jacob hopes that he hasn’t fucked this up like he has everything else. Hopefully, _something_ can be salvaged out of this relationship.

That night he takes the lawn chair from her front porch, not bothering with trying to mask the creaking of the floorboards, sets it up where she’d had it before, builds a fire in the pit, and waits. He waits, lights a cigarette, waits, and finishes that cigarette. Then he lights another one and waits some more.

When he gets to about half of his cigarette, he resigns to wait until this one is finished before banging on her door and demanding she sit with him. Then he hears her door open.

He takes a quick glance toward her before taking a deep draw, straightening his back like the soldier he is. His old anxieties are returning, knowing that he will need to open himself up to her in order to get his brothers what they need, but he will do it for them.

He can see her in the peripheral of his vision, staring at him and approaching the fire slowly, arms crossed as she takes her usual seat. He can almost feel her gaze as it roams across every inch of his face, down his arms, then back up to his face. He knows that she’s scrutinizing every single one of his scars, but he does not say anything. Instead, he does the same thing to her, turning his head so that he can examine her abnormalities. Though, truthfully the only ones he can see are the stretch marks across her chest (partially exposed from her low-cut tank top) and the barely visible thin line across her hairline.

Then their eyes meet, her purple gaze piercing. They are truly a pretty color, irises glowing like alexandrite in the firelight. Jacob is well aware of the fact that he’s drowning in their poisonous depths. He wishes he didn’t think she’s beautiful, but she is. Doesn’t want to admit to himself that he’s attracted to her, but he is.

She reaches into the side pocket of her jeans, gaze never leaving his, and pulls out a Hershey’s kiss. She holds the chocolate out for him, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

She lifts her other hand, signing slowly, “ _Mercy Greco._ ”

He plucks the confection from her palm, taking a last drag from his cigarette before flicking the butt into the fire. As he breaths out the smoke, her nose scrunches up. He scoffs before replying, “Jacob Seed.” He knows she can hear him, or can at least read his lips. After all, she’d been able to answer his questions last night.

She smiles at him, seemingly forgetting her initial disgust at his smoking, but he does not return the gesture. Whether she thinks he’s being rude seems to be irrelevant, because her smile doesn’t disappear as she pulls another kiss out of her pocket. She unwraps the foil, popping the sweet in her mouth as she looks out past the trees and over the still waters of the lake.

**April 11, 2018 – 5:00 AM**

Jacob is not the type to celebrate his birthday. Never sees the point in it. It’s only another day in the year. Nothing special, nothing to be honored. God, he’d celebrate his birthday every fucking day, though, if he would be rewarded with this.

The only thing he can focus on is Mercy and her delicate touch and her hot mouth. Everything is impossibly bright, their surroundings unrecognizable, but he knows they’re resting on a picnic blanket beneath a tree. He can’t quite remember how they got there, but that hardly matters when Mercy is in his lap, grinding against his crotch, fingers tenderly dancing along the flesh of his shoulders and back. His shirt had been removed and discarded at some point, or perhaps he hadn’t been wearing it in the first place. Her lips are warm against his neck, tongue and teeth worrying and marking the soft skin there.

Her mouth leaves his neck so that she can pull the loose dress she’s wearing off, and it disappears somewhere behind her. She isn’t wearing a bra, and he sits up so that he can kiss the sensitive skin between her breasts, tongue coming out to tease her. She gasps softly, gently pushing him back down before focusing her mouth back on his skin, lovingly kissing her way down his chest, paying extra attention to the scars that mar his torso. Even the ones that have faded to almost nothing.

When she gets to the waistband of his jeans, she pops the button open, jerking the fabric down his legs effortlessly before discarding them. Before he knows it, she’s taken his cock in her mouth, lewd noises escaping her as she takes him in as deep as she can, one hand on his thigh the other wrapped around and stroking his base. He lets out an animalistic groan, throwing his head back and eyes screwing shut from the intense sensations consuming him.

Jacob opens his eyes, looking back down at her. She’s so beautiful like this, skin glowing from her want, pupils blown wide and eyes dark from her arousal as she stares up at him. She removes her mouth from him, smirking as she licks her way up a throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft.

“I’ve never seen you so red before,” Mercy says, laughter in her voice.

He’s not sure if she’s talking about his face or his dick, but either way he hates it. “Shut up,” he growls. He sits up, grabbing her around the waist and flipping her on her back so that he is over her. She lets out a delighted squeal, one of her legs instinctually hooking around his hip. He dips his head, teasing one of her nipples with his teeth while palming her other breast.

She sighs as she stares down at him with hooded eyes. “This is supposed to be for _you._ ” She pushes on his shoulders, lifting herself onto her knees and straddling him. Her teeth peak out to bite her full bottom lip, swollen and red. One of his hands still cups her breast as she sheathes him inside her wet scorching center. He doesn’t know where her underwear went, and he doesn’t care. She throws her head back, a strangled cry escaping her as she takes him inch by inch. His hand slides up to her neck, the pad of his thumb gently pressing and stroking her throat.

When he’s fully inside her, she lifts herself up ‘til his head is at her entrance before crashing back down. His arms cage her against him, his fingers digging into her back. He buries his face in the crook of her neck to muffle his moan. One of her hands fists in his hair while the other she uses to dig her nails into the skin of his neck, speeding up her rhythm. She pulls his head back so that their gazes meet, and she kisses him fiercely, nipping his bottom lip and tongue darting out to mingle with his.

She separates from him seconds later, and he can feel his release building inside him, threatening to spill his hot load inside her. She places a soft chaste kiss on his lips and says, “Wake up.”

Jacob wakes with a start, hand automatically reaching to the side and only finding air. His pulse is racing wildly, blood rushing to his head and groin. For a moment he is struck dumb, but then he looks down and sees his erection standing tall in the sheet tangled around his legs. Fuck… It’s happened again.

He’d started having dreams of his wife a week ago, nearly every night. They mostly ended this way, where he’s about to come then he wakes up cold and alone. Though, he doesn’t know why that particular memory resurfaced. It’s nowhere near his birthday. Some dreams are more… _painful_ than these ones. Dreams where he’s holding her dead body, others where she’s trying to kill him. Sometimes he’ll dream about simply being in her company, just holding one another and talking or sitting beside their campfire. Sometimes those dreams were the hardest to wake up from.

He takes in a deep breath, trying to focus on something other than his throbbing dick. He tries to imagine a cold shower or walking through snow, but that doesn’t work. He rehearses in his head the plans for today: check on the prisoners at Grand View Hotel, hunting for both food and Whitetails, observe the progress on the new Judges. No matter what, his thoughts keep returning to Mercy. Her mouth on his body, the feeling of being inside her, tasting her. He concedes then, pushing the sheet out of the way and taking himself in hand. There’s only one way he can deal with this. A few strokes and a memory of him pounding into Mercy is all he needs to find his release. He traps his lip between his teeth, trying to keep himself from moaning out her name while he comes. He’d rather keep his dignity than feed his weakness.

Once his nerves are calmed and thoughts are quiet, he begins his day. It’s always breakfast first before anything. Then he does some working out in the exercise room. After that he gets cleaned up and goes about his tasks.

The first thing he has planned for today is going to check on the prisoners who are undergoing conditioning at the Hotel. The first trial had only just begun a couple days ago, but Jacob is anxious to see if any have succeeded. Most importantly, he wants to check on good ol’ Deputy Peaches. Honestly, he doesn’t expect much. His first assumption is that Pratt is one of the ones who’s failed. Perhaps the young deputy was able to last a little while, but there’s no way he could survive the first trial.

That _is_ Jacob’s assumption, until he gets to the deputy’s assigned room and finds that he is one of the ones who lived out of his cluster.

_You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,_ Jacob silently seethes, teeth grinding together as he enters the room. Pratt is still firmly strapped to his chair, bleeding out his eyes. He is growling things that sound almost incomprehensible, but Jacob knows what he’s saying. _Train. Hunt. Kill. Sacrifice._ Sometimes there are different variations to the phrases, but they are mostly the same with everyone that goes through the trials.

Jacob shuts off the speaker in the room, lifting a bucket of ice-cold water above the deputy’s head before unceremoniously pouring it over him. Pratt yelps from the sensation, lips sputtering as the water cascades over his face. He shakes his head, trying to shake the excess water off himself like a dog. His teeth chatter together audibly as he glances uneasily around the room, his brain probably straining to process where he is and what just happened.

Jacob doesn’t give him any time. “Aren’t you a lucky one, peaches?”

Pratt’s eyes snap up to meet Jacob’s gaze. He takes special pride in how wild the deputy looks, how vulnerable and broken. “What was that?” the shattered man asks, his voice hoarse from days of screaming.

“ _That_ was only the first trial,” Jacob answers smoothly, “You’re not nearly strong enough for the others. You honestly should’ve died.”

“Th- There’s more?” he hears peaches mutter, but he ignores the question. Instead, he turns back to the Chosen waiting at the entrance to the room.

“I need you to gather up the remainder of the prisoners still alive. Take them to the Center as soon as possible, so that they can be prepped for the second trial.”

Jacob’s about to leave the room, when the deputy calls out, “Wait, please!” Jacob should just keep walking, but he finds himself stalling in the doorway. “I- I- I don’t wanna go through that again.”

“Oh well you have to,” Jacob says, turning back to the deputy and crossing his arms. “You don’t have a choice in the matter.” Jacob mockingly lifts a hand to his chin as if he were thinking. “Actually, there is another option.”

Pratt takes the bait. “What is it? I’ll do…I- I’ll do whatever you want.”

“If you don’t want to do the trials, you could just fight one of the Judges my men are training at the camp.” Jacob smirks. “And by that, I mean all of them. What better way out to go than by fighting?” He shrugs nonchalantly. “And if by some miracle you end up killing all of the pups then they weren’t fit to be Judges anyway.”

“Please, I’ll do anything,” Peaches pleads, skin pebbling and body shivering from the cold water. “I’ll… I’ll join you. I’ll tell you everything about Mercy.”

Jacob glares down at the man, muscles tensing in his jaw. He grabs Pratt round the back of his head, shoving his face forcefully down. “Are you suggesting I don’t know my _wife_?”

Staci flinches at the contact, a petrified squeak escaping from his throat. Jacob can see the whites of his eyes with how terrified the deputy is. “No…No… I’m not saying any of that… It’s just- “he rambles before groaning and continuing, “I can tell you whatever you want, man. I’ll join your army and fight back…whoever needs to be fought. I’ll prove it to you; I’m not weak.”

Jacob lets out a loud roar of a laugh, squeezing the deputy’s head before releasing him. “Now, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while.” Jacob was right too: this man has no honor. Not if he’s willing to throw his supposed friends, these people he _cares_ for so much, under the bus. Not if he’s so cowardly that he’ll spill their secrets rather than take them to his grave. He really _shouldn’t_ indulge Pratt… He’ll be out of Jacob’s hair soon enough, and forgotten from existence, as it should be.

But if Jacob could bend the deputy to his will, somehow break the man until he is nothing but a hollow shell of his former self… Now that is a tempting opportunity. A satisfying one. The deputy… Jacob could make an _example_ out of him. And Joseph will most definitely be happy with adding an extra member to his flock, especially one of the deputies.

Jacob hums. “Well, it really is your lucky day, peaches.” He slowly pulls his knife from its sheath, easily cutting through the duct tape binding Staci to his chair. “You’ll thank the Father for this mercy. He is the only reason why I’m even allowing you to go through with this.” He jerks Pratt up from his chair, the deputy’s legs wobbling as they try to adjust to use again.

Jacob starts walking towards the door, motioning his head for the deputy to follow. “Come on,” he commands, and Staci jumps from it, trailing behind the larger man like a scared puppy. Jacob smirks to himself smugly, realizing how easy it’ll be to break this man into submission.

“Is Mercy… I need to know if Mercy is…” the deputy mumbles under his breath, though Jacob can hear it clearly, and it annoys him. Jacob turns sharply, smacking Pratt on the mouth with the back of his hand. It is not too hard of a blow, only enough force to cause some darker bruising later. The deputy grunts from the impact, body jerking to the side and hand coming up to cover where Jacob hit him. Jacob lets out a pleased breath when he notices the blood dripping through the gaps of the deputy’s fingers from the busted lip, reveling in the stinging feeling pebbling across his knuckles.

“You won’t speak unless spoken to, got it?” Jacob growls, voice like steel on stone, dangerously low.

“I- I- I’m sorry, man. I just… I wasn’t- “

“And quit calling me _man_ ,” Jacob scolds, gathering the deputy’s collar in his fist and pulling him up so that Pratt can see his face. “You will only address me as sir. You understand that?”

“Yes, sir,” Staci replies quickly, voice cracking. His face goes white as Jacob glares down at him. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Good,” Jacob praises, releasing the deputy from his grip. Pratt stumbles backwards a small step before steadying himself and looking to the floor. “Now, I will let you ask or say whatever the fuck it is you’re thinking, but after that no more talking out of turn.”

“Y- Yes, sir. Sorry, s- sir. It’s only that I want to know what’s happened to Mercy,” Pratt says, voice quivering as he timidly speaks his mind. What a stupid thing to inquire about, as well, after claiming to want to switch sides.

“That isn’t your concern, but if you really _want_ to know…” Jacob trails off, considering what he should say to the peach. “She’s abandoned you.” Staci’s gaze snaps up to his then, a look of utter confusion written all over his face. Jacob continues, “She turned herself in, just like I knew she would. She knows where she belongs, and like a dog to its master she’s returned to us. Right now, my brother is putting her through her Cleansing.” Disappointment and hopelessness flash in Pratt’s eyes as he slowly returns his attention to the floor, irises twitching about as he tries to process what Jacob is saying.

Jacob scoffs. “What? You thought she would come for you? That she would _save_ you?” Jacob mocks, crossing his arms. “Well, peaches, I got somethin’ to tell ya. Nobody’s coming to save you. You’re weak, and you’re not worth the trouble. Lucky for you, the Father wants you with us, so I’ll tolerate you for now.” He beckons the deputy lazily with a finger, and just like that Pratt falls in behind him.

“Now, before we can accept you into our flock, we need to put you through a little test,” Jacob explains coolly.

“I thought you said no more trials,” Staci objects, voice faltering.

“I never said that, and you’ll shut your fucking mouth unless you want me to hit you again,” Jacob says, giving the deputy a warning glare, and the peach clamps his mouth shut.

When they reach the atrium of the Hotel, Jacob motions for one of his men to approach, quietly demanding some rope and a sack. He gets to work tying the bindings around Pratt’s ankles. Then he does the same for Pratt’s hands. Finally, he secures the sack around the deputy’s head. Pratt immediately responds by screaming and begging for his life, but a quick rifle stock to the face shuts him up real good.

Jacob tells his men to load Pratt into the bed of his truck, and he wastes no time driving out to Breakthrough Camp. As he pulls in, he can see a couple of trainers trying to rein in a new Judge. Jacob’s eyebrows furrow as he glances around the rest of the camp. He thought they had a few newly christened wolves, yet he only sees one.

As soon as he leaves his truck, a Peggie approaches him. The man’s shoulders are squared, back straight, chin up, just as Jacob expects all his soldiers to stand. “Sir,” the man greets simply, voice stern and hard.

“Last time I came here, there were six Judges,” Jacob says, keeping his gaze solely on the soldier in front of him. “However, I only see one here today.” One of his eyebrows arches slightly as he already feels a headache coming on. “Why is that? And why wasn’t I informed of what happened to them sooner?”

The Peggie’s throat bobs as he swallows, though this soldier is hiding his fear very well as far as Jacob can see. Jacob can detect fear like a shark in bloody water, though. “Sir, it only happened last night…”

“What _happened_ last night?” Jacob is beginning to lose his patience with every throb of the vein at his temple.

“The Whitetails happened, Sir. They snuck up on us, used bows and arrows. They took out our night guards and killed a couple of the Judges. The other wolves started howling and barking and woke the rest of us up. We released the ones remaining to flush them out, but that Judge was the only one that returned.” The man shrugs, shaking his head in disappointment. “All the others are either dead or they ran away.”

Jacob turns away from the man, approaching the Judge slowly. The wolf sees him almost immediately, and its snarls dissipate into low growls as it lays submissively on its tummy. Its eyes are hazy green and unreadable, though that is of no consequence to Jacob. He kneels before the wolf, trainers standing protectively at his sides in case the Judge should try anything, but Jacob knows it won’t. He whistles, signing for the wolf to sit, and it obeys the command, ceasing its growling. He grabs ahold of its muzzle, peeling back its lips to peek at its teeth. They’re pearly white and sharp too. And its claws are dark and even sharper than its teeth.

“When was the last time he ate?” Jacob asks the trainers while he stands, still inspecting the wolf.

“Just last night,” one of the trainers answers.

“Is he aggressive?”

“Oh, this one’s strong alright,” the other trainer says, a hint of pride in his tone. “Trained ‘im m’self. He took out the most Whitetails last night too.”

Jacob nods approvingly. “Good.” He turns swiftly, pulling the bed open when he gets to his truck. He grabs peaches by the collar, pulling him out and letting him fall to the dirt. The deputy groans and winces when he hits the ground, curling up on his side. Jacob grabs the back of Pratts collar and pulls him up before ripping the hood off. “You ever seen one of these before?”

The wolf bounds up to them at the sight of Pratt, drool dripping from its jowls and growling. One of the trainers grabs the wolf’s makeshift collar, jerking it back before it can sink its teeth into the deputy’s neck. It’s jaw snaps together like a whip as the wolf continues to snarl.

The deputy yelps, trying to back away, but Jacob keeps him in place. “What the fuck kind of wolf is that?”

“It’s called a Judge,” Jacob explains, “They may look like just your average wolf, but make no mistake, these things are far more superior than _any_ animal you’ll ever encounter.”

“Wh- Why… Why does it look like that?” Staci stammers.

“Strength requires sacrifice, and we reward that sacrifice by…well, I guess you could say we bless them.” Jacob thinks that the deputy’s going to say something, but he just continues to stare at the wolf, completely rigid. “You’re going to fight this thing.”

Pratt’s head snaps in his direction the second that sentence leaves his mouth. “What? I thought you weren’t being serious when you said that.”

“That’s one of the tests you’ll have to go through in order to join my ranks. All men and women who want to abandon my trials have to do this,” Jacob says, “They have to kill at least one Judge with their bare hands in order to be deemed worthy. You’re lucky. You only have to go up against one and its not even fully trained.”

“What happens if I can’t kill it?”

“The Judge gets an extra meal, and you won’t be my problem anymore.” Before Pratt can protest, Jacob starts dragging him more into the center of the courtyard. The trainer holding back the Judge walks alongside them, continuing until they are right across from Pratt.

Once Jacob is satisfied with the positioning, he drops the deputy, leaning down to undo the bindings around his wrists and ankles. “How do I kill it?”

Jacob shrugs. “I can think of a few ways, but I’d rather see what you can come up with.” When he’s through with the knots and tangles of rope, he pulls the deputy to his feet and gives him an encouraging shove forward. Pratt looks around himself frantically as Jacob saunters back to his truck and a few more Peggies come out of the other cabins to watch the spectacle. The trainer holding the wolf watches Jacob with glittering eyes until he lifts himself onto the edge of the truck’s hatch.

Jacob meets the man’s gaze giving him a slight nod. The trainer lets out a gleeful yowl before releasing the wolf. “Fight!” he cries out, and the men cheer with him.

The Judge is the first to move, lunging for Pratt and clamping its jaws around his arm. He yelps as the wolf pulls him forward, falling on his hands and knees. The deputy turns over, lifting his arm in front of his face. _Big mistake._ The wolf jumps on top of him jaws snapping around his forearm once again. And its digging in deep to; Jacob can see the blood soaking the wolf’s white muzzle.

Jacob is sure that this is the end of Deputy Staci Pratt. Death at the jaws of a vicious Judge. But as the wolf continues to pull and dig its teeth into Pratt’s skin, the deputy lifts his other hand in a fist. He punches the wolf once, probably meaning to aim for its eye, but instead meets its brow ridge. The wolf brushes off the attack as though it hadn’t even happened. He punches at the same spot again and again and again, half the shots meeting their mark and the others not, but still the Judge doesn’t budge. Only digs in deeper.

Pratt hits the wolf again, though this time he must’ve hit his mark perfectly, because the Judge lets out a yelp as it releases his arm. It backs off of him, red reflecting in its teeth as it snarls. Pratt clutches his damaged arm to his body, backing away from the wolf slowly. The wolf makes another leap for the deputy, but Pratt is quick. He lifts his leg and kicks the wolf right in the throat as it leaps, sending the wolf flying and tumbling back a good few feet.

The wolf rights itself, glaring daggers at the deputy as he pushes himself back onto his feet. The wolf runs and makes another leap at Pratt, and Pratt opens his arms wide in welcome. As the wolf collides with him, one hand clamps around the wolf’s muzzle, and with his other arm he wraps it around the Judge’s neck. They struggle in the dirt for a few seconds, the men cheering on as the wolf growls and Pratt makes his own animalistic noises. Jacob leans on his knees, watching as the two wrestle each other. The wolf keeps struggling until it is on top of Staci, and the deputy responds by locking his legs around the Judge’s ribs. Jacob watches as the muscle in the deputy’s arm flexes and his thighs squeeze tighter around the wolf. No sound can be heard from the wolf anymore as he continues to crush the Judge’s throat.

Eventually, the wolf stops struggling and moving altogether, but the deputy still keeps holding the wolf not letting up any pressure. The Peggies all around start quieting as the realization hits them. Jacob pushes himself off the tailgate, walking towards the deputy slowly. He kicks Pratt in the side to get his attention. The peach yelps, releasing the dead wolf and pressing a hand to his ribs. Upon realizing he’s let go of the Judge, his eyes bug out and he backs away as quick as he can from the creature.

“It’s dead, peaches,” Jacob says, kneeling next to the wolf and turning it over. He unsheathes the knife strapped to his thigh, deftly cutting into the wolf’s belly and slicing up past its chest. Pratt watches, mouth open and breathing heavily, as Jacob stashes the knife and shoves his hand into the wolf’s chest, feeling around until his fingers find what they’re looking for.

He pulls the heart out turning his face to look at the deputy where he sits on his knees, shaking from the dying adrenaline and tears rolling down his face. _Pathetic._ But Jacob knows to give credit where credit is due, and Pratt will get his reward. Jacob stands, strides toward the deputy, and holds the heart out to him, blood leaking from the arteries and soaking his hand.

“Take it,” Jacob commands. It takes him a couple seconds, but Pratt reaches up tentatively with his undamaged arm and tenderly takes the heart. The Peggies close in around the both of them, watching Pratt expectantly. He looks up at Jacob with a question in his eyes, and Jacob answers, “Eat it. The blood of your victim will make you strong.”

Staci’s lip curls at that, skin blanching. He looks down indecisively at the dripping heart, swallowing thickly. At first, Jacob doesn’t think the deputy has the guts to do it, but then he opens his mouth wide and sinks his teeth into the tough muscle. Jacob knows that this might take a while. Hearts are gristly and stringy and no matter how hungry you are, the taste is still sickening, especially when ingested raw. With each bite, he watches as the deputy worries the muscle with his teeth until finally pulling it free and swallowing. Every swallow is punctuated with gags and coughs, but he continues to eat and eat and eat. Though Staci is very obviously disgusted with the act, Jacob can see it in his eyes, the hunger that’s been inside him for days (and a deeper hunger that’s probably been in him for years) being satisfied.

Finally, when the last bite of the heart is swallowed, with blood coating and streaming down Pratt’s mouth and throat, his hands lazily fall to his knees and he looks up to Jacob.

“Well done,” Jacob praises.


	14. Mercy Seed V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's times like this that remind us of what really matters...big juicy balls.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter, my lovlies. <3

**September 29, 2008 – 10:28 AM**

“This seems like a good place to stop,” Jacob says, taking a seat on the huge log. Mercy sighs, taking her spot on the other side of the log.

As Mercy sits, taking generous sips from the water canteen, she thinks over the changes that have taken place over the last month.

Since that fateful night when Jacob finally joined her beside the campfire, things were different between them. The shaky acquaintanceship that they had formed within those first few weeks since she moved in has now become a stronger bond between the two of them. They still don’t speak too much, which doesn’t bother Mercy either way. She knows his name, _Jacob Seed_ , and to her that’s a treasure in and of itself. They don’t ever do anything together, besides just sitting by the campfire, but sometimes she’ll invite him over to eat dinner with her.

She smiles to herself as she fondly remembers when she’d brought out some stuff to make smores one night. She’d brought a jar of peanut butter with her, and he’d watched her with curiosity as she spread a dollop of the stuff across a graham cracker. Then she toasted her marshmallow until it was almost burnt and squished it between another graham cracker and some chocolate before digging in. She always left some supplies out for him, but she found that he didn’t often indulge himself.

That wasn’t to say that he never ate anything she made him. She would still cook for him, and sometimes she would cook for the both of them so that they could eat together. Usually, he’d come to her cabin. The first time she’d invited him in, he’d gone through the house looking at her pictures and the various books she kept on her bookshelf. He’d almost seen the scarf she was still making for him, but she’d hid it before he got the chance.

Other times, they would eat outside, often while he was busy working around the property…with a shirt off. Though she has grown accustomed to the scars that mar his body and learned to suppress the hurt she feels from seeing them, she finds herself struck back by the handsomeness of him. The scars make her want to protect him, to shield him from the world that has permanently marked him for all to see. They make her want to chase after the smile she has yet to see. Not those small smirks that twitch at the corner of his mouth, but the real genuine smiles that she wonders if he even knows how to make.

But his body…all he has to do is exist and breathe, because she has never seen anything sexier. He is nearly all muscle, sculpted for practicality more so than aesthetic, but that hardly matters to him she assumes. And his hair – the hair on his face and body – she has never seen a man look so masculine. Her father was always clean shaven, never allowing a single hair to grow on his face, and the only man (ha more like boy) she’d ever been with had no body or facial hair to speak of.

Sometimes at night while waiting for sleep to claim her, she imagines what it would be like to touch Jacob. If his muscles would ripple as she grazes her fingertips across his skin. If his skin would be calloused or soft to the touch. But these are thoughts that she tries not to feed. He is her friend here in Hope County. Her _only_ friend, and her next-door neighbor at that.

Mercy’s brought out of her thoughts by him as he stands and shoulders his candy red rifle. He jerks his head, motioning for her to follow him, and she blushes as she stands and follows after him. She screws the lid back onto her canteen and shoves it into her backpack before replacing the bag over her shoulders.

That brings her back to remembering why exactly they are out here in the wilderness. Well, why _she_ is out here, hunting with him. As summer is coming to a close, and she’s about to leave her job at the orchard, she’s found herself constantly thinking about what she wants to do with her life. She’s never really thought about it before. Back in junior high and high school, she’d been so depressed that she barely even thought of the future. When her grandmother had gotten sick, Mercy had devoted almost all of her time for caring for the older woman.

As far as she knew, her whole family had been a lineage of greats. Her grandfather had been a fighter pilot in World War II, making his name by crashing his plane into a bomber unit before they could drop their bombs on a base. Her grandmother had been a world-renowned artist, known far and wide for her amazing brushwork. Her mother died during childbirth before she’d been able to do anything with her life, but according to Mercy’s father and grandmother she’d been quite the “renaissance child” as it were, and she’d enough skill to be able to go to whichever university she’d wanted. Her father had become a highly decorated police officer and died a hero, but this Mercy already knew. Her father had been estranged from his family, so she didn’t know too much about that side of her tree.

Mercy doesn’t really like the idea of giving her life to her country the way her grandfather had, nor does she have the artistic ability that her grandmother was seemingly born with. She was never as enlightened in the arts, math, sciences, or histories as her mother was. But a cop like her father…that idea seems to stick with her. She imagines herself in uniform with a badge and it just _feels_ right to her. And she could use some of her inheritance to put herself through police academy.

However, she knows that in order for that dream to be successful, she has to get over her fear and trauma with guns. So, she decided to go hunting with Jacob, hoping that it would help her get over her fear. She didn’t tell Jacob any of this, worried that he might refuse her offer. She simply told him that she wanted to learn how to hunt so she could be more self-sufficient. He’d been caught off guard by her request but ultimately allowed her to accompany him, much to her relief.

Mercy is so distracted by her thoughts that she doesn’t realize that he’s stopped, and she bumps into his hard back, his rifle groaning from the impact. Jacob turns his head to look back at her, brow raised in question. She gives him an apologetic smile, almost letting out a nervous giggle, but he raises a finger to his lips, indicating for her to be silent. He crouches, slowly approaching the small cliff edge that they’re on, and pulls the binoculars hanging around his neck up to his eyes. He glances over the tree line before motioning her over.

She crouches next to him as he pulls the binoculars from around his neck and hands them to her. The next thing he does catches her by complete surprise, and she finds herself holding her breath as he lightly grasps her chin and repositions her gaze. Then he wraps his arms around her to pull the binoculars up to her face so that she is looking right where he wants her to.

His hands are large and so warm, and with his arms wrapped around her she feels totally and completely safe within his hold. Though his skin is rough, it still makes her heart skip a beat and her cheeks heat up from the contact. She lets out her breath, trying to calm her nerves. She is getting too distracted by her physical attraction to him, and he is trying to show her something.

She looks through the binoculars, smiling when she sees a mother moose taking a drink from a small pond while her two babies prance around and play with one another. Mercy lifts a hand to cover her mouth and deafen the delighted squeal that’s threatening to escape her as she watches the scene. She’s mainly only seen deer and pronghorn around Hope County, and caribou are most common in the Whitetails, but this is her first time seeing a moose. The fact that there are calves makes her more excited.

“I’m surprised they’ve come so far into the mountains,” Jacob whispers, “Their breeding grounds are in the Henbane River, so it’s unusual to see them here.”

She pulls her gaze from the moose, looking at him with a wide smile plastered on her face. For a moment he holds her gaze, his blue eyes soft and gentle. It is only there for a few seconds, but something in his gaze makes her feel warm inside.

He turns his face away the next instant, and with butterflies in her tummy she turns her gaze back to the moose and calves.

Jacob clears his throat. “Now, this isn’t really a rule of hunting, more like a code of conduct, but when you’re hunting don’t shoot females or babies. I probably don’t have to tell you that, but the females help the species survive and shooting the babes is just a waste. It’s better to let them grow to their full potential and size before hunting them.” Mercy nods her understanding, and she feels him enclose his hands around the binoculars. “Come on. Let’s see if we can find another target.”

They both stand as Jacob pulls the binoculars over his head and around his neck. They continue down the path, eyes scanning the trees for any signs of life. As they near a small meadow, Jacob holds his hand out, signaling for her to crouch down with him.

“You see that elk there?” he whispers, pointing across the meadow. Mercy looks, focusing on the elk grazing in the meadow about a hundred meters away from them. “We’re gonna try and kill that thing.” Mercy’s throat goes dry as she watches him pull his rifle over his shoulder and position himself properly. “The best vital shot that you can get on an elk is a double lung shot. If you’re feeling lucky you can also aim for the spine.” She holds her breath as he takes aim, looking through his scope. She tries to still her rapidly beating heart as she watches the animal.

“And…boom.”

At the sound of the gunshot, Mercy snaps. It’s almost like she’s completely separate from herself in that moment, instantly returning to that cleaning closet in the convenience store. She cries out, falling to her knees, fingers tangling in her hair and pulling painfully on her strands. And that disgusting _sickening_ smell of bleach, so overpowering that she can hardly focus on anything, consumes her, feeling as the bile creeps up her throat.

Then someone is grabbing her wrists, gently pulling her fingers from her hair. She looks up, eyes wild and black, into the clear blue eyes of Jacob. She reaches out, fists bunching in his shirt and the chain of his dog tags tangling within her fingers.

“It’s alright,” she can just barely make out the words he’s speaking, as if she were engulfed in water, “What you’re seeing isn’t real.”

Sure enough, as he speaks her surroundings are slowly returning to normal. The green of the trees, the light filtering in through the leaves, the smell of pine and flora wafting through her senses. The warmth of Jacob’s skin as he cups her face, keeping their gazes on each other. She watches him warily as he uncorks his canteen with one hand and delicately tips her head back. The second the cold water touches her lips, she gulps it down greedily, but he pulls back soon after, denying her overindulgence. She whines from the loss of the icy liquid, desperate to feel it wash through her.

“Breathe,” he says, voice firm and calming. “In and out. Breathe as deep as you can, hold it, then let it out.” She does as he says, shaking and shivering as she does her deep breathing. “There you go. Good,” he praises. “Try to focus on things that calm you down.”

And she does. She closes her eyes as she continues to breathe. She thinks about her grandmother, holding her close after a nightmare, smelling of sweet perfume. She thinks of sitting in the living room with her dad, watching shitty movies and gorging on candy. She thinks of lazing by the campfire with Jacob, bathed in the heat from the fire.

She opens her eyes, slowly coming back to her senses. As she sits staring straight ahead, his warm fingers leave her, leaving her feeling cold and wanting their return. Instead, he holds his canteen out for her. She accepts it, shaky fingers enclosing around its metal surface. “Don’t drink too fast,” he says, “You might puke.” She presses the spout to her lips, tipping her head back to take light sips. She sighs as the cool water refreshes her.

Swallowing her shame, she slowly meets his gaze, cheeks reddening from embarrassment. She feels so completely worthless. She can’t believe that happened, even after all her preparation. She’d known that he was going to shoot, had tried to calm herself enough that she wouldn’t have an episode, and yet it was not enough.

She lifts a fist to her chest. “ _I’m sorry._ ”

“Don’t be,” Jacob responds almost immediately. “Have you had attacks like that before?” She nods, and he hums. “Is that the first time a gun shot has triggered it?” She shakes her head. “Alright. It’s good that you came out with me. The more exposure you have to guns, the easier it will be for you to overcome your fears. You should have told me about this before, but I’m not upset that you didn’t, understand?” Mercy turns her face away, tears welling up in her eyes, but he is having none of it. He grasps her chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. “Understand?”

She bites her lip, squeezing her eyes shut so that he can’t see her humiliation. “Look at me,” he says, and he sounds so _soft_ in that moment. She opens her eyes, a couple of tears rolling down her cheeks. “You don’t need to be ashamed. It happens to the best of us.” Yet, that does nothing to make her feel any more a part of herself. She feels so disappointed in herself, so completely drained and embarrassed.

Jacob sighs, releasing her chin and standing. “Come on, let’s go home.” He holds his hand out for her to take, and she accepts it gladly, her smooth palm meeting his calloused rough one. He pulls her up, holding her shoulders when her knees buckle beneath her. They head back to the path, their pace considerably slowed.

After a few minutes of walking, Mercy’s eyes widen when the realization hits her. She steps in front of Jacob, holding her hands out. “ _What about the elk?_ ”

“Don’t worry about that,” Jacob says, “It’ll take a few minutes for it to die, and we need to get you home soon, so you can rest. We’ll just let the wolves have it.”

Mercy frowns, turning her gaze to the dirt. “ _I’m sorry._ ”

“Stop apologizing,” Jacob gruffly responds. He walks past her, walking slowly until she follows behind him. The silence is almost unbearable, leaving her trapped within the echo chamber of her thoughts. His voice breaks her out, “I’m gonna give you a couple days to recoup, and after we’re going to work together so that we can get you through this.”

Mercy stops in her tracks, staring at the back of his head with wide eyes. He turns to her at the sound of her steps halting, raising a brow at her questioningly. “What? Isn’t that why you came out here with me?” Mercy is struck dumb for a second, until she nods enthusiastically. She had not expected him to want to help her after this. “Good.” He turns back to the trail, continuing on. “It won’t be too difficult of a task, I promise you.”

Mercy smiles, falling into step behind him.

**April 13, 2018 – 11:19 PM**

Mercy holds the forkful of the shredded bull balls up to Nick’s face, giggling as the father-to-be grimaces. “Come on, Nick, I’m sure this isn’t the first time you’ve had some balls in your mouth. Shit, you’ll probably like it.”

Kim shrugs next to him, hand delicately rubbing her large belly. “I mean, she’s not wrong, hon.”

“What the hell, Kim,” Nick says, throwing his hands up. “First off, _that_ was a one-time thing. Second, why you gotta go and tell the Deputy about that?”

Mercy grins wide, bringing that same forkful of beef to her face before shoving them in her mouth. She sighs happily as the salty calamari like flavor overwhelms her taste buds. “Hey, listen, I don’t care how much dick you’ve sucked, my dude,” she says through her mouthful, taking a moment to swallow before continuing, “Joey is like the biggest lesbian I’ve ever met, and I can’t even begin to tell you how nasty John is. Jacob once told me that- “

“Woah, woah, woah. Stop right there,” Grace interrupts, waving her hands. “I don’t wanna know shit about your creepy brother’s sexcapades.” She raises her brow at Mercy. “Also, you’ve had, what, _three_ beers? How the fuck are you this drunk already?”

“Okay, I’m not drunk, _I’m_ drunk,” Mercy slurs, wagging her finger as she picks up another bite of shredded balls. “And it’s been a _while_ since the last time I drank, okay? Joseph forbids alcohol within the Project, and Jacob hates the stuff. Like really _loathes_ all types of alcohol. After I married him, I had to say bye-bye to my precious beer.” She holds the balls up to Nick’s face again. “Eat it, Nick. Eat it, eat it, eat it,” she chants, pumping her fist in time with her intoning.

“Okay, okay,” Nick relents, reaching out and taking the fork from her. He stares down at the beef, mouth fixed in a scowl.

“It really isn’t that bad, Nick,” Kim says, picking up a piece of her own fried balls. “Look, I’m eating them, and I’m _pregnant_.”

“How’ve you not even tried them yet, anyway?” Grace asks, “You’ve lived in Montana all your life, man.”

“You don’t understand, Grace, I’m a guy. I _know_ what comes out of these things.” His eyes widen in horror as he looks at the meat. “Dear God, what if there’s baby juice still inside these things?”

“Baby juice?” Kim questions, her brow raising as she pops the fried meat she’s holding in her mouth.

“You know, Kim, man yogurt. Gentlemen’s relish. Salty surprise. Jerk sauce.”

Kim stares at him with a deadpan expression. “I’m having a baby with you.”

“Eat it!” Mercy shouts, reaching across the table and grabbing him by the chin. She pulls his mouth open and shoves the fork in his mouth. Nick yelps, lips closing around the utensil, cringing as he begins to chew. Mercy stands, holding her hands in the air in triumph. “Yeah! Shove those juicy balls in your mouth!”

A few other people around hoot and holler with her, and her eyes light up when the next song begins to play from the speakers.

_Baby, I’m hot just like an oven,  
I need some lovin’._

Mercy squeals. “I love this song!” She grabs grace by the wrist, pulling the veteran out of her chair. “Grace, come dance with me!” Grace tries to resist but Mercy pulls her away from the table and out towards the area they’ve reserved for dancing. Boomer, who’d been nawing on a lamb bone beneath the table, barks happily, faithfully trotting at Mercy’s side. Mercy sings along to the words (quite badly), and Grace lets out a breathy laugh as she watches her sway and jump to the beat. Mercy holds Grace’s hand up, twirling the young woman. Boomer stands on his back paws, mimicking the motion, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

Mercy laughs as an ex-peggie comes up behind her, grabbing her round the waist and swinging her around. Since this civil war in Hope County began a lot of Project deserters have been showing up in Fall’s End to join Mercy’s resistance. Some of the one’s she’s captured have even agreed to join, admitting to only remaining under Joseph’s wing because they were afraid of the consequences of leaving. At first, their presence caused strain with others in the resistance, but Mercy is happy to see resistance members and ex-Eden’s Gate members alike celebrating together, putting their differences aside to have fun.

She hopes that the Resistance can do the same with her family when the time comes. _If_ the time comes.

As the song comes to an end, Mercy discreetly removes herself from the crowd of people, moving to the makeshift parking lot to get some fresh air. She leans back against one of the trucks, breathing in the crisp night air. Boomer follows her out, taking a seat in front of her and staring at her with his cute dopey expression. She smiles down at the pup, scratching him behind the ears and laughing when he leans into her touch and taps his foot.

_And half the time I want to go home,  
And half the time I want to go home._

Mercy hums along to the melody, turning her gaze up to the stars shining above her. She sways on her feet, hands bunching in the black maxi skirt she’s wearing. She’s glad for a moment’s respite from the goings on in the County, even if it is only for one night. She knows her people need it. Hell, _she_ needs it. She pulls her sleeveless jean jacket tighter around herself as a chilly breeze comes up, sighing heavily. It’d been Casey’s idea to have the festival today on the sabbath. Said that it would be ironic and would probably piss off the cult, what with men and women alike shoving balls in their mouths and partaking in debauchery when they should be praising the Lord.

“ _It’s almost a point of pride, they say that it doesn’t happen that often. Pure sadism…_ ” Mercy jumps when she hears his voice over her radio, John singing along to the lyrics, voice low and menacing. She pulls the radio from her pocket, turning her head to search for him among the trees and valleys around her. “Look at you. You seem to be enjoying yourself, aren’t you, _Deputy_?”

“What do you want, John?” she says, words slurring despite her trying to keep her voice steady.

John laughs. “Oh, you’re drunk, too. How delightful.” He pauses before continuing, “You’ve been marked, Deputy. It is the will of the Father that I acquire your Confession so that you may atone.” Mercy’s eyes widen as she pushes herself off the truck, swaying slightly as she prepares to yell. “Ah, ah, ah. No shouting for help now. I have your whole party surrounded. It would be a shame if we were to ruin this celebration with an unnecessary bloodbath, wouldn’t it?”

“What do you want?” she growls.

“Come back to us, Mercy,” John says, “You know there’s only one way this can all end. Turn yourself in, and I promise you we will leave your people alone for the time being. Not a single hair on their heads will be harmed.”

She scoffs. “So, that’s it? I just turn myself in, and you won’t hurt anyone else?”

“For now,” he clarifies, “Like all who are marked, they will _eventually_ need to confess and atone, but we will not take them tonight. You have my word, and unlike you, I’ll keep it.”

“And what’s to stop me from warning them that you’re here?”

“All of your people who are there have been drinking. Do you honestly think that any of them could put up much of a fight right now?” He gasps on the other end. “And is that Kim Rye I see, dancing with her husband? Oh, I’m sure Nick would be distraught if something were to happen to her, especially with her carrying his child.”

Mercy’s heart hurts when he says that. She doesn’t want to think that John is so monstrous that he would be willing to hurt a pregnant woman to get his way. She wonders if she should just call his bluff, but if she’s wrong…

No, she can’t take that chance. “Fine,” she concedes. “You can have me.”

She can hear the smile in John’s voice. “You’re making the right decision, my dear. There is an old rundown silo just southwest of your position. You have five minutes to meet us there. That should be more than enough time for you to get there. And if you don’t show up, well… You know what’s going to happen.”

A pit settles in Mercy’s stomach as her radio beeps out. She starts jogging on wobbly legs, knowing that she needs to move _now_. A whining behind her stops her, turning around to remember that Boomer is still with her. She kneels down in front of her dog, shoving her radio into Boomer’s collar.

“Stay, boy,” she commands, standing. He looks at her with sad puppy dog eyes, and she shakes her head. “No. Don’t follow me. It’ll be better for you to stay here.” Boomer whimpers, but ultimately lays on his tummy, watching as she heads off in the direction that John told her to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, for those of you who might not know yet, I've made a fic specifically for one shots that take place in The Soldier's Bride universe. It's going to have deleted scenes or other parts that don't make it into this fic, but I am also accepting requests.
> 
> You can find the fic [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17299727/chapters/40688750) or just by looking for it on my profile.


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